An Unobservable Entity
by Mortissues
Summary: I look like you, but I'm not. I see your world, but I'm not a part of it. I could be the college kid sat across from you in the coffee shop, the young runaway beside you on the bus, or the beauty you're admiring on the dance floor. Pray that I'm not ..
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons.**

**Prologue**

**BPOV**

I can't believe I am actually back in Forks. Of my own free will no less.

No, actually I can, it's raining and despite being mid-afternoon, dark enough to feel like the onset of the end of the world. Or perhaps that's just my mood. End of the world like.

Charlie got me a car, or a Chevy truck to be precise. It hadn't even occurred to me to want something in Phoenix but no way was I moving to a new / old town to be ferried around in his cruiser, I had every intention of using my meagre savings to get something. In spite of my misgivings at his description I fell in love with it the moment I saw it parked in the street. It has presence.

Which is why I'm taking it for a test drive now instead of crying in my room.

I am pleased for my mom, really, Phil is a good guy. And it isn't either of their faults he moves around a lot playing ball. But I could see it made her sad when she felt obliged to stay at home with me and so eventually I decided to move back to live with my dad, Charlie, at least for a while.

I'm dreading school tomorrow. There will be less people there in total than I had in my entire junior class in Phoenix. Not that it makes any difference in the grand scheme of things, I didn't fit there and I am resigned to repeating that feat here. I always seem to be somehow out of step with the world around me. My mom calls that being seventeen. I think it's just me.

I do love this truck, it's slow and solid, but with my track record for accidents, of every kind, that's a good thing. I think. And the noise isn't so bad, now I've worked out the optimum sound level on my iPod to drown out the engine.

For some reason I feel a strong desire to just keep driving as the highway leads me out of town but with I heavy sigh I turn off, down the local road with the fallen trees on the corner that Charlie said would bring me back into town.

On a narrower road the huge trees lining it are oppressive, almost blotting out the grey sodden sky.

I shiver, suddenly keen to be back in the sanctuary of my old bedroom and alone with my morose thoughts.

Suddenly a huge animal bursts from the trees to the left and instinctively I jerk the wheel, locking up the big old tyres and sending the truck into a sideways skid on the wet surface.

Crap.

It feels like I'm twirling slowly and gracefully across the road but the speed of the approaching wall of trees tells me that I'm not, I am in fact hurtling towards what is probably going to be a very painful impact. Charlie always says it isn't the speed of the accident, it's the sudden stop we humans aren't designed for . . . .

The back of the truck slides off the asphalt and crashes downwards, swinging the rest of the truck with it. And it keeps going down until it hits something with an enormous bang and the cab starts to tilt back over the bottom.

Glass shatters and metal shrieks in tortured protest as my unrestrained body pings around the cab like a squash ball on a court. This probably isn't going to end well.

...

When I open my eyes I find myself looking straight into the face of angel.

He's beautiful. A strong handsome face framed by wavy blonde hair, eyes of the strangest gold, almost metallic looking and ringed with long thick blonde lashes that sweep his cheek when he blinks.

He smiles at me, parting his full sculpted lips and showing a mouthful of perfect white teeth.

"What happened?" My voice sounds weak, wrong.

"You overturned you truck." His voice is smooth, velvety with a hint of an accent I can't quite place.

I frown in confusion. I vaguely remember that. I skidded I think. I just can't remember why. My thoughts are sluggish but even so they slip away from me when I try to focus on them. My attention keeps being captured by the golden angel.

"Where am I?"

"At the side of the road. I pulled you out of the wreckage."

"Have you called my Dad? Does he know, is he coming?"

"I haven't called anyone. Your lungs are punctured."

What? I feel fine, no pain.

"How, how do you know?"

"I can hear the blood filling them."

I frown again. I can't hear anything. Although I do seem to be struggling to breathe, I can't quite seem to get enough air.

"What's going to happen?" I whimper as fear twists my insides.

"Don't worry about a thing." My angel replies softly, pressing a brief kiss to my numb lips. "I'll look after you."

He lowers his head and briefly there is a stinging pain in my neck followed by a sensation of spreading warmth.

His hair tickles my face.

A feeling of peace and serenity steels over me and I relax, floating weightless, letting my eyes fall shut.

It's so easy to ignore the vicious snarling sounds that erupt around me sometime later, I can barely hear them anyway.

**JPOV**

Edward is waiting for me as I approach the house.

"She saw?" It's a rhetorical question, he wouldn't be waiting for me if she hadn't. My poor long suffering wife and her visions of the future.

"She did. The kiss did not impress her much, to be honest."

"She was bleeding, dying, it would have been a shame to waste her blood, it was exquisite."

"If you say so Jasper." He sighs, kicking away from the tree he's leaning on and starting for the house. "Did you kill the werewolf?"

"Eventually. They're very strong." I twist to show him the tear an in my shirt and healing bite mark on my side.

"Were there anymore?"

"No, I spent the night searching but I couldn't scent any, not even down at La Push."

"Then we might not have to leave in an undignified hurry with a pack of shape shifters baying at our heels."

He's annoyed and I don't need my gift to feel it. Jasper screws up again. Bad Jasper.

"How was school?" I ask casually.

"Boring. The long awaited arrival of the new girl didn't happen, it was probably as well you weren't there, even I could detect the faint pall of _depression_ hanging in the air."

He loathes high school as much as I do, if for slightly different reasons. He says the banality of everyone's thoughts drives him mad but it's all that fresh blood wandering around like an all you can eat buffet that drives _me_ mad. My control was a hundred times better before I became a vegetarian.

I follow him up the steps to the door but he pauses on the threshold.

"Alice said she couldn't see what you decided to do with the body."

"I haven't yet. Its years since I've been chased off my kill, I was a little distracted." I shrug, more interested in getting to Alice. "I stashed it where no one will find it. I'll go back and bury it later."

I don't bother putting on airs and graces for Edward, he can read my mind. He knows my empathy doesn't give me the issues with dining on humans the others think I have, I can influence their emotions so they all die happy. If I've a mind to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. Vampires being vampires.**

**Chpt 1 From Bad to Worse**

**BPOV**

I've finally slipped the shackles holding me to my disturbing dreams, the gruesome sensation of burning. I know it was a dream but it was so realistic I'm almost afraid to open my eyes, just in case I've turned into a charcoal briquette over night.

Instead I lay still, enjoying the comfort of my bed and putting off the awful moment when I have to get up for school.

A number of things dawn on me at once.

The birds are particularly loud this morning.

The washer must be on already, I'll need to get the repair man in to have a look at it again, it sounds like a river overflowing its banks.

I'm not breathing.

Oh Crap! My dream. I couldn't breathe in my dream. I was choking, drowning.

Panic grips me and I flail around, kicking off my covers. Breathe, breathe, I need to breathe.

My lungs fill with air.

Dirty, nasty, polluted? Complex. What is _that_?

Choking and gasping my eyes snap open to reveal a bright blue sky, ringed with the tops of pointy, verdant, green trees.

I freeze in shock, arms and legs rigid.

I must still be asleep.

Vivid burning followed by vivid hallucinations of trees and sky. Thank heaven I don't do drugs. I'm fairly certain that won't have changed, I don't remember trying anything. In fact I don't seem to remember much at all . . . .

Before I can follow that line of thought, blazing away like a comet trail in my mind, something else grabs my attention.

My throat is hot and dry and I reach a dream hand up to massage it. Maybe I'm sick, delirious. Mom must be freaking out. There must be some way to let her know I'm okay . . . .

Zoom! My mind slips down another path. There are miniscule seeds and dust motes dancing in the air, reflecting the sunlight like mini glitter balls. It's beautiful, wonderful . . . .

Not breathing again!

I pull in another deep breath. I can hear it rushing down into my lungs, swirling around like a tornado and gradually settling like water going down the drain, hanging there. I exhale and it whistles faintly on its way back out. Tastes and smells the same, complex, but now vaguely sweet, less alien . . . .

What bug could I have possibly picked up that makes air taste . . . .

I'm still not breathing!

With mounting fear I jerk some more air into my lungs. Getting used to the strange quality of it now but something isn't right. Breathing should be automatic, I shouldn't need to make myself do it. What if I forget, I'd suffocate . . . .

Fear escalates into terror and panic returns. I hurtle to my feet. Far too fast, my muscles completing the action long before I am ready and in a way my decidedly non-athletic body is simply incapable of.

My instinct is to flee but before I follow through on it my surroundings grab my fractured attention, opening another pathway I probably won't complete in my wired brain . . . .

I'm in a grassy clearing, surround by trees, off to the left I can hear the sound of running water. I can no longer hear birds singing but I can hear the leaves moving gently in the trees, the blades of grass rubbing together making a sound like when you wrap paper around a comb, insects scurrying along the blades of grass. Something, worms? Burrowing in the earth.

But there's something important. More important than my breathing, which has stopped again. I can't hear my heart, which should be hammering away in my chest and reverberating in my ears.

With a disorientating, lighting fast movement, my hands fly to my chest, fingers splaying out over my left breast, feeling desperately for the rhythmic thumping that's the quiet backdrop to my existence.

Nothing.

Now I _am_ breathing, harsh rapid pants, hyperventilating. I should be swaying on my feet, fainting, waking up in my bed. But none of those things are happening. The air continues to rush in and out of my lungs, my vision, hearing and olfactory senses remain unnaturally sharp and my heart continues to lie dormant in my chest.

Spinning on my heel with what should be dizzying speed, but isn't, I take the only option left to me in this nightmare. I run.

And even though I know there is something wrong with the way I'm running I don't stop, I welcome the movement, the abandon of pushing myself to my limits, the rapidly increasing distance between me and . . . .

There are multiple trails blazing across my brain now, crossing over each other, none of them complete but somehow all of them still active. And I can feel myself flipping between them like Charlie when he channel hops. Every time it seems they have moved on in my absence, without me being aware, yet I recognise each new thought that's developed as if I was part of the process. Surely my head is going to explode if this keeps up . . . .

It isn't long before I realise that I'm not getting tired. That even at this crazy speed I can still pick out every detail of the world around me as if I were stood stock still inspecting it with a magnifying glass. And that even with my woeful spatial awareness I've come a very, very, long way. North.

I keep running. Even though I know I've been running for several hours. New sights, scents and sounds hitting me in a constant bombardment which my hyped up brain lays down as another open thought trail. I'm not thinking or acting in a way I recognise. I don't even recognise where I am, it should be familiar enough conceptually even though I have no idea physically, yet it's so _different_ that I might as well be on an alien planet . . . .

Finally distracted to the point of inattention, there had to be a saturation point, I fail to dodge the massive pine looming in front of me, knocking it down like a matchstick even though it makes a mighty crash as it lands. It barely breaks my stride, though I can feel the impact vibrating through the soles of my swiftly moving feet, and it certainly hasn't knocked me out the way I would have expected it to.

Nevertheless I skid to a stop anyway, ripping up parallel grooves of grass and mud under my feet and tearing off my sneakers.

With an act of will, I _need_ this, I fall to the forest floor, curling myself into a tight ball and sobbing in terror.

But there are no tears.

With my eyes tightly shut and my hands over my ears I can still hear and smell everything. Even my clothes smell, _differently_, depending on what fabric they are.

What the hell is happening to me? What kind of nightmare is this?

Cautiously I brush my eyes, confirming that despite my broken sobbing I'm not crying any tears.

My chest continues to heave convulsively and at first I think my breathing has returned to normal, but it isn't true. Down one of my twisty thought paths I find that I am consciously willing that to happen because I'm freaked out when it stops.

A good cry usually makes me tired, lulls me to sleep but nothing's happening and I've been here, like this, for what? About three hours and I don't even know how I know that . . . .

My brain careers away in another direction . . . .

With my eyes still screwed closed it's a while before I consciously notice that it's getting dark. But on inspection there's already a thought process in my head that's been tracking the light level falling and fighting with the others to get my attention. I don't like the dark. I especially don't like to be alone in the dark . . . .

Finally, reluctantly, I open my eyes. Gasping in shock. I can still see. Its pitch black and there's no moon, thick clouds blanketing the sky, but I can still see as clearly as if it were daylight. There's a different quality to the colors, the shadows, but I can still see the microscopic dust motes bobbing in the air currents, although there's no light for them to refract.

The fiery dryness in my throat makes its presence known again and I groan with the pain, I need a drink of water and _badly_. I'm so thirsty.

I can hear watering flowing over rocks a few hundred yards away, I'll get that drink then I might be able to concentrate on something other than the pain which suddenly seems to be taking over my whole world.

On my feet in an instant I walk slowly toward the stream realising that I can smell the water, it's not very appealing but I need it to put out the fire in my throat.

Moaning with need I drop to my knees on the bank, not caring about any animals that have probably peed in it up stream. Not bothering with the niceties of using my hands as cup I plunge my face into the cool water.

I've barely registered that it feels different against my skin before the first mouthful washes down my throat.

My stomach reacts on contact. Vomiting it back up as if it's the worst kind of poison.

No, no, no!

I try again with the same result.

And again.

This time I use my hands and try gargling with it. But even that makes me retch.

And none of it is quenching the thirst that has my throat in flames.

On my feet again I stumble away from the water, afraid of it now as well as everything else, before turning and running. There's a strange comfort in running. Until I realise that my sneakers are gone but it still feels like I'm ghosting across a sea of silk rather than rough terrain of plants and rocks. Maybe I'm flying, not running . . . .

Running, flying, fleeing through the night. Still heading north.

Wait! I can hear a heart beating.

Is it mine?

No.

But I can hear it, up ahead. I can even hear the blood as it pumps it around the body, a faint swoosh. Fresh scents reach me on the breeze, denim, leather, sweat, soap, toothpaste, the last whiff of an evening meal. And something which calls to my parched and agonised throat, warm, rich and coppery.

My flying feet swerve automatically toward the smell even as a part of my brain begins to scream silently in protest.

Instinctively I realise what's drawing me, I _know_ and I don't want it.

I don't want it!

And now I scream out loud.

A wild and harrowing sound filled with warning, dread and _intent_.

I hear him, struggling out of his tent, the synthetic rustle of the material, metal 'rip' of the zipper. The way his heart takes off, beating like a helicopter blade. The corresponding change in the swoosh of the blood through his veins.

I hear his boots tangle as he turns on the spot trying to locate the source of the blood curdling howl.

Then I hear him taking flight, booted feet thundering into the ground, breathing harsh and panicked.

But he's so slow, so ludicrously slow, that even though my brain is still screaming in silent denial I'm on him before he's even cleared his campsite.

Crushing him to the ground, inhaling the sweet tang of his blood, tinged with something sharp, adrenaline maybe.

Sinking my teeth, with laughable ease, into the throbbing vein in his neck and sucking down his hot, thick, sweet, blood like an addict, even as I'm sobbing in terror and disgust.

It doesn't take long. He struggles, but that's nothing to me, becomes weaker, his sobbing and pleading, quieter.

I can hear all of it. The failing of his heart and the last rattling breath in his lungs.

But I don't stop until I've sucked out every last drop of his thirst quenching blood.

I fall back, rolling away to lie next to him in the grass. Eyes wide open, staring at the emerging stars.

Breathing and heart silent, just like his.

Shocked, revolted, appalled and afraid to the core of my being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 2 Everybody Move to Canada . . . .**

**BPOV**

I finally notice that the body beside me is warm, but only because the night air is rapidly leeching the heat out of it.

For the time being at least I feel vaguely coherent, centered, unlikely to suddenly and inexplicably shatter into a million pieces.

Coherent enough to appreciate what I have done and coherent enough to wonder what sort of person it makes me that my primary thought now is how to dispose of his body.

I'm a murderer. A killer of the most macabre kind.

Oh god, _please_, _please_ let this be a nightmare, a product of delirium and sickness.

"_Please_." I whisper.

Despite the low pitch of my plea I immediately notice that something else is wrong. My voice is different, musical, and crystal clear. And the word uttered so fast I'm surprised I even heard it.

But the nightmare isn't ending yet and the only thing I can do is get to my feet and work my way through it. I wish I was a shrink or something, at least then I might have a hope in hell of working out what this is all about.

My victim is lying on his front, head turned away from me.

His hair is unremarkable, black, cut short, a little curly and flecked with grey. It reminds me of something.

I really, really, don't want to see his face. I don't think I could bear it.

Bracing myself I lean down to lift his feet, astonished at how light they feel. Could blood really be that heavy?

Disgusted I clamp down on that thought path.

He _is_ light though, as I drag him away into the trees, like pulling a bed sheet, not a fully grown man.

Half a mile away I stop, digging furiously into the ground with my bare hands until I've created a deep enough hole. Refusing to acknowledge how quickly and easily I accomplish the task.

Miserably I stare down into the empty grave. What should I do? Should I say something? What could I possibly say, sorry does not even begin to cover it. Should I wash him or something, surely my fingerprints, hair, skin, DNA will be all over his body?

No. I can't do it. I can't cover my tracks in such a callous way and even if I wanted to I still don't want to see his face.

Filled with self-loathing I tip him carefully down into the hole with my toe, my eyes tightly shut, wincing as he flops lifelessly into position.

And for the first time grateful for the frightening speed of my movements, I rain the spoil down on him until the ground is level and flat again. Kicking the leaves hither and tither until there is no discernible sign.

No trace. No evidence. Of my hideous and unnatural crime.

Dear god. I can't even be a normal murder. I have to be something else. Something different. Something truly nasty.

In a part of my brain time is being tracked. The hours ticking by as I stand there staring down at the ground, fancying I can see through it to the awful secret beneath.

It's the worms that spur me into motion. I can hear them. Slithering, sliding. Already? What is this place?

Backing up hastily I trip over a rock crashing to the ground. I'm up again in a heartbeat . . . .

Hell I don't even have a heartbeat . . . .

Deathly afraid that his cold dead hands will emerge from the leaves and clamp around my ankles, dragging me down to rest in the dirt with him.

With a strangled moan I flee.

Running.

Running away from what I've done.

Running away from what's happening to me.

Running.

Light begins to streak the sky.

A new smell registers. A new sound.

And with it the awareness that the hideous dry fire of thirst is beginning to stir in my throat again.

I push myself faster, harder. And within a few minutes burst through the tree line, down a shingled beach and into the cold grey sea without even pausing.

And there's the thing, for a while at least, I just keep running.

But then the water becomes hard, oppressive, and I'm forced to slow down.

Down one brain track is the little girl, agog with wonder that she's walking on the bottom of the sea.

Down another, the guilty murderer, reliving her crime over and over again in Technicolor glory.

Another, who remembers her swimming lessons, registers that I don't blink anymore, even while it's trying to place the lessons in some form of memory order . . . .

Somewhere else I'm worrying about my throat, what it means, what will happen . . . .

And another part slices through all of it and orders me to take a deep breath.

I do.

I could end this dream, nightmare, here. By drowning in the cold salt water.

I can taste the salt. It's in my lungs, my stomach too now.

And I can feel it. Grating against my skin, trying to abrade my insides.

I vomit convulsively. Forcing the water out and immediately ingesting more.

An unpleasant painful cycle that doesn't end. But I'm not blacking out. Not waking up. Not drowning.

And another thought overtakes all. Survival.

Still vomiting, swallowing and faux choking I strike out powerfully for the surface, making the trip in several easy strokes.

Instinctively I relax as soon as my head breaks the surface, hauling in a great lungful of air and expelling the last of the water. I can tell its contaminated, polluted, I just don't know how . . . .

I should float but my body keeps sinking . . . . I panic, flailing around . . . .

Each time I swallow more water and repeat the horrendous sensation of drowning without dying.

Eventually it dawns on me that without air in my lungs I have no natural buoyancy.

Forcing myself to relax I sweep my arms carefully to and fro. Taking a deep breath only when my head is fully clear of the water.

Gradually everything returns to normal.

Hah!

Normal. Suddenly it dawns on me that no matter how hard I've been trying I can't actually remember what normal is. Instinctively I know this isn't it. But still . . . .

It's still day but the sky is dark, ominous, threatening rain. The waves are choppy, agitated, carrying me toward land. Another dank, windblown shingle beach. But not the one I left.

Done with the water I stroke out, heading toward it.

Crawling up the stones on the beach, which feel like the softest comforter, and collapsing on a rotten log, which feels like the downiest pillow.

I close my eyes, gently this time, and pray for death.

Something.

Anything.

Not this.

_Please_, not this.

My brain doesn't stop working. My thoughts continue to grow, sprout new avenues. My lungs still don't work and my heart still doesn't beat. My nose and ears blitz me with new information.

There's no relief.

With an anguished cry I jerk to my feet and start running again.

North.

Into the gathering darkness.

Until eventually even the running brings no respite.

Resigned I drop back to a walk, a slow walk. A speed that seems familiar to me, somehow. Slow motion, but comfortable.

The sounds around me suddenly seem to multiply. The scents too. What's changed now . . . .

I have. Or rather my actions have.

Despite my acute dream hearing, the dominant sound when I run has been me. My footfalls, the disturbed earth and rocks, the occasional Bella'd tree . . . .

Bella. I am Bella, from parched, dry Phoenix . . . .

Running has dried my clothes on my body, the salt crystals a mild irritant . . . .

I should be shivering with cold, but I'm not, I'm just, _comfortable _. . . .

Now I'm walking I'm not scaring everything way. This forest is teeming with life. Bug life, plant life, some of the plants actually make noises . . . .

Animal life.

They smell a lot like . . . .

Ugh, they smell like something that will ease the burn in my throat, the terrible thirst which is building with every second. I can't even force my mind to spell out what I want. What I need. Syrup, thick warm syrup for the pain . . . .

They all smell different. I've no idea what smell goes with what animal but some smell more 'medicinal' than others. Thankfully none of them smells anything like as . . . . as _he_ did.

Like before they drive my thirst to take over all the other thought processes, not so much shutting down as pausing them, rendering them mute, just out of conscious reach.

Without thinking about it I lift my nose, angrily shoving my matted hair out of my face and sniffing the air delicately, seeking out the most enticing smell and the heartbeat that goes with it. When I filter out what I want I start to move toward it, my speed increasing until I'm flashing through the trees like a missile, leaping up rocks and boulders as if they were a shallow staircase. Despite the noise I'm making I'm shocked to find that my prey doesn't notice me until I'm almost upon it, almost as shocked as I am to discover I'm stalking a big cat of some description.

With a hiss it leaps to its feet, darting away into the trees. For a second I pause, afraid, but then the need to relieve my thirst takes over and impels me forward.

I catch it easily, sinking my teeth into its neck and pulling deeply on its bl-blood even as its razor sharp claws rake my skin. I'm so greedily absorbed in sucking the life out of it I've drained it completely and kicked the body away before I realise that I'm not in pain.

With the thirst temporarily sated I inspect myself carefully. My shirt and bra are shredded, material hanging uselessly down, my jeans torn in several places. But my skin is perfect, no open wounds, not even a scratch mark. In fact the lifetime of scars I've collected from being unfailingly clumsy seem to be missing too.

In moments I'm stripped naked, twisting and turning to inspect myself as best I can without a mirror. What the hell?

My skin is perfect. Flawless. Unblemished and uniformly pale.

I pinch myself. It hurts, but it doesn't leave a red mark. On a side note, it doesn't wake me up either.

Carefully I run my hands over my body. I still feel like me. Although, yes, definitely, my muscles are much more defined. Amazed I stretch my arms out, turning them this way and that, flexing them. Not exactly muscle beach, more toned athlete, much less doughy teenager.

With a sigh I sink down to the ground gazing out at the view in front of me. Miles and miles of trees, with mountains in the distance one way and the sea in the other. I wonder where I am.

I start putting my shirt back on, ripping it in half in the process, must have been more damaged than I thought. No way am I running around this dream topless, for a number of reasons one of which is my crushingly embarrassing lack of chest. Although. Feeling like a fool I cup my breasts, weighing them carefully in my hands. Bigger, definitely bigger.

Still, carefully I use the remnants of my shirt to make repairs to my bra, not exactly fashionable but at least modesty will be preserved.

Not trusting my jeans to remain in one piece I pull them on gently and slowly, sighing in relief as I fasten them. Looking down to inspect my bare feet I realise that my jeans are now a couple of inches too short where once they brushed the ground and drove my mom crazy. Shrunk in the sea? Or am I taller?

What if I'm not me? What if I'm an avatar or something? Or having a bizarre out of body experience? I could kill for a mirror . . . .

That thought makes me wince and I glance at my latest victim, a sob breaking in my throat. I know animals aren't the same as people but it was just sat there on a rock when I came along and killed it for no good reason. And let's not even get started on the fact it should have killed _me_.

My super computer brain is starting up again, I can feel it firing up all the open pathways and rattling through all the new data as I dig another hole and bury the cat, marvelling guiltily at the softness of its fur and crying out at the feel of its bones splintering in my grasp. What good is a brain that can follow all these things at once if it can't actually complete a thought trail and come up with any promising conclusions about what's happening to me, or if I can't concentrate on any of it.

Again I take to my heels, fleeing further north, at a loss for what else to do.

The sun comes up and after a while a new, less natural sound, registers intermittently. Cars!

I speed up. Cars, people, help.

Now I can smell the fumes, acrid and stinging.

Up ahead I can see the highway through a break in the trees and I crash to a stop.

I want to be helped. I want to know where I am. But what if I kill someone? Am I safe?

There's nothing coming at the moment so I approach it slowly, inhaling deeply with every breath, ears straining for the sound of a car or truck.

It is a road. A perfectly normal black top, wide and curving away into the trees in either direction.

Reluctantly I back away a hundred yards or so into the trees. My throat is just a little dry and scratchy at the moment but I know how suddenly it flared up before, I don't trust myself. I can follow the road though, maybe find a town or a sign to give me some idea where I am.

With a hand over my nose and mouth as a precaution I jog along for several miles until finally a huge sign comes into view.

Coombs. Oh that's helpful. Great. Where or what the hell is Coombs? Aren't there any useful 'You Are Here' signs in this world?

Anger consumes me so fast that I barely even register it. It's like a cold fire that sweeps up from the tips of my toes until my hair feels like its standing on end. With a roar of rage I kick out at the sign, grunting in satisfaction as the metal leg screeches and groans, bending in half like its kneeling before me. In a blur I flash around to the other side intending to kick it again and send it crashing into the dirt, for a moment uncaring that what I'm doing is totally impossible.

The back of the sign brings me up short though.

Vancouver Island.

My anger vanishes as suddenly as it arrived and I flop to the ground laughing hysterically.

Of course. I've been considering dreams, comas, alternate worlds and radioactive spider bites and all the time I've been in Canada. It makes perfect sense.

Not.

My laughter turns to sobbing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 3 Wild Woman**

**BPOV**

How to describe the last months?

I'm living a nightmare.

If you can call what I'm doing living.

I've learnt to avoid being still. The thoughts, the regrets, the losses, the pain. They're all too much to bear if I'm not moving.

And I can keep moving forever it seems. My mind yearns for sleep but it never comes. Nothing about whatever I am now can be shut down. Not my senses, not my thoughts and not my strange and to all appearances, lifeless body.

As much as I long for sleep I also long for company, for rescue, some respite from this terrible loneliness.

Hah! How perversely I used to pride myself on being a loner, sufficient unto myself. What the hell did I know?

Most of the time I'm a seething mass of contradictions, over powering urges and hormonal unbalance. But from time to time, after I've taken my medicine, I'm almost calm. Almost. Because it never really stops.

That's when I struggle with my memories. With who I am. Was.

I am Bella Swan. I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona. It was hot and dry. I had a mom, I loved her. I can't remember what she looked like, I don't remember what I look like, water is never still enough to create a readable picture. I remember ballet classes, I wasn't very good. I know I was clumsy, able to trip and fall on a flat stable surface. I was bright, I did well in school, I had a few friends. Not real close, but someone to sit with at lunch, maybe go out with from time to time after school. I liked to read and listen to music. I was so soft I could never even swat a fly or squish a spider. I always felt like I was different. But this _different_?

Any specifics, or how I came to be here, like this. Nothing. Not a blank, it's sort of there, but every time I try and analyse it my attention skips off, like a stone skimming the water. And that's _extremely_ frustrating . . . .

But I'm also afraid to try too hard. What if I'm 'gilding the lily' with my memories? What if I've always been a monster? What if I killed my mom and that's why I'm out here all alone in this strange world?

Often I get something I don't recognise at all. Dark glowering trees, rending metal and the face of a golden angel. I don't know what it means but I welcome the angel memory, I like to think he was looking after me.

Despite my fear of repeating my atrocities civilisation has exerted a pull on me I couldn't deny. At first I was drawn to towns, desperate for the help I was unable and unfit to ask for.

The first time that _feeling_ overtook me again I wasn't so lucky. Well, somebody wasn't. My frenzy was so great I literally pulverised him and then, in some twisted nightmare, I got mad because I couldn't suck the medicine I needed out of a mangled corpse. But there's the thing. I didn't run away. I just found another victim and that time I was more _careful_.

I despised myself.

But it wasn't the last time.

I'm a hunter, I've realised.

And I'm content to hunt animals in the traditional sense. Unless something better comes along. And then I seem to have no power to resist, no matter how much I want to.

And somewhere, in the deepest darkest depths of my soul, it gets less and less horrifying each time.

Which is, conversely, as horrifying as things can get.

Did I mention the contradictions?

Consequently I have confined myself to the wilderness. Banished myself from the rest of mankind, if that is what I still am. For their protection. So why is it I don't feel any better? Why aren't I flooded with noble dignity? Why am I so angry all the time?

That sign isn't the only thing I've trashed.

I can fell trees. Crush rocks. Dig like a maniac. Set flight to every bird and animal within a hundred mile radius with a shout. Demolish a hillside, with my fists. And I do, often, all of the above . . . .

And I sparkle. I sparkle in the sunlight. Like diamonds. It's as beautiful as my soul is ugly. I can watch it for hours. Marvelling at the contrast.

The cold of the mountains doesn't bother me, nor the snow. I've always hated cold wet things so it seems appropriate that I reside here now. Sometimes I come down to watch the ocean. I guess I have a territory now, like any other wild animal, and I stay within my self imposed boundaries.

Despite how little the environment affects me physically it still affects me mentally. I built a home, the logistics of it were easy, it was the mechanics of the thing that caused all the trouble and quite a bit of the rage that's been scaring the panties off me. It shelters me from the wind, rain and snow. It looks like something someone's kid brother made out of sticks and mud in the backyard. I had such romantic notions for it in my mind's eye. I even fancied myself sleeping on animal furs. Until I finally admitted I was probably never going to sleep again.

I've tried a thousand times to start a fire, like an original caveman, with no success. Again it's not that I _need_ one, just that I feel I _should_ have one.

I've tried eating the animals I catch. It has the same effect as drinking water. Together with the ever present thirst the only physical sensations I've yet to experience inside my body.

I still love to run. It's pleasurable, for a while.

I was never into comics and superheroes but I can't help feeling that I should be revelling in the things I can do physically. They defy belief. But I can't, I just can't. It isn't natural. It's wrong. Perhaps some higher power is at work here, maybe I'm meant to get some brightly colored tights and right wrongs. But I can't see it somehow. What kind of superhero kills people and drinks their blood?

Of course I know a fictional being that does. Vampire. They sleep during the day, I don't sleep. They have fangs, my teeth are straight and even, mom was a big believer in oral care. They can be killed by a wooden stake to the heart, I can't, I've tried, makes matchsticks. And real vampires don't sparkle.

So I don't know what I am. All I know is that nothing good has come of it.

I've given up all pretence that I'm dreaming. Despite many hours of devouring fiction in my former life, and that's what I think of it as now, my mind could never conjure up a _situation_ like this. Never.

Eventually my clothes disintegrated. Jeans aren't designed for running the way I can. By the time my panties and bra gave up and went the same way, being naked was the last thing I was likely to worry about. Hell, my new skin doesn't even stay dirty. It's like Teflon.

So here I am. The wild woman of Canada. Sitting on a rock, soaking up the weak sunlight and refracting it around like a disco ball.

And the worst thing? The _absolute_ worst thing?

I haven't even gone insane. How _fucking_ unfair is that?

And now, post medicine, I am calm enough to start thinking about what to do next.

I could and should stay here, of course. People so rarely stray out here that I'm only likely to kill a few.

But I don't want to. I don't want to live like this. I've only a hazy idea what the alternatives might be, but I couldn't bear it if this was forever. And that makes me a selfish monster, something I've been struggling with in my more lucid moments for quite a while.

Hazy alternatives. An apartment somewhere in the city. A job, a career. Friends, a boyfriend, a husband, children. I've never given any of these things much thought in the past, can barely credit them now. But these are the things I should aspire to, aren't they?

I just don't see how I can have them. Not now. They're all so normal. And I'm not. I don't even remember finishing school. Although there would have been a graduation ceremony and up until recently I've been very good at blocking unpleasant memories from my mind . . . .

I need to be more realistic in my desires. Alright. Focus Bella. You can do this.

I don't want to kill things . . . . I don't want to drink bl-blood . . . . I don't want to be alone . . . .

Focus!

What _can_ I do?

Nothing. I can't be around people, it's not safe.

Argh!

Maybe I can build up my immunity? Mom did it with mushrooms. I hated them, she loved them. But incredibly slowly, and without my permission, she started introducing them into my diet until I was ready to acknowledge that I was eating them and the world hadn't come to an end. I actually quite like them now. I've tried one, since, since whatever. My stomach heaved it straight back out again and it tasted like dirt, something I used to claim fervently whenever mom and I had the mushroom debate.

The idea that I was right all along makes me sad. I never really wanted to be right, I only wanted to make a big deal out of it, be different. Be _seventeen_.

It's so hard to focus.

Immunity. Aversion therapy. Whatever. Is there anything I can do so I'm safe to be around people?

Like now, I'm definitely better when I've taken my medicine. The thirsty dry heat is not exactly neutralised, more soothed, pushed into the background. Maybe if I do it enough I can resist?

Oh who am I kidding? I've not resisted anything. I'm a monster. A pseudo vampire. I can barely even resist something inconsequential like a squirrel when it ventures too close to me. And they don't taste that great.

Not that taste has anything to do with it. It doesn't. Really. It's more the scent and something about the sound it makes . . . .

Okay. So I can take my medicine as often as possible, even if I don't feel like I need it, preventative medicine, vitamins. But what about the smell?

I don't need to breathe. I accept this now. So I can just hold my breath, it isn't hard, I have to think about it constantly to do it anyway. The only problem is I can't talk if I don't have breath. That might make me stand out more . . . .

That starts another thought process along the lines of do I even look human anymore and signals the end of Bella's focussed time . . . .

…..

Over the next few days my mind keeps returning to the subject of what I look like and whether or not everyone would notice I was different. It started as a nagging concern and turned into an all-consuming need to see myself in a mirror. I can't feel pointy ears or anything strange like that but what if I look as alien as I feel?

Unable to stand it any longer I filled myself to bursting with medicine and so here I am, on the edge of my territory, gazing off into the extreme distance and surveying the twinkling lights of the nearest town with longing and trepidation.

Naked, and for the first time in a while, uncomfortable with it.

I'm going to wait for it to get light, for everyone to go to work, so that I can break into one of the secluded houses on the outskirts and get a good look at myself in a mirror. Then I'm going to run like hell, back to the safety of my own world, possibly stealing some clothes on the way.

Breaking and entering bothers me for some reason I can't identify, despite the fact that its way down the list compared to my other crimes. But I'm going to do it. I feel _compelled_ to do it . . . .

Annoyingly slowly the sun comes up and climbs into the sky, thankfully shrouded in clouds. When I guess it's around ten I start forward, using my sharp senses to search for people or more correctly, the recent signs of people.

The closer I get the more my throat starts to itch, even though I'm so full I can literally feel the medicine sloshing around inside me. It builds so quickly that I almost turn tail and run but instead I grit my teeth, slow to a walk and take one deep scenting breath every sixty seconds. I've already selected the house I want, about a mile and half outside town and hidden away in the trees, I heard two cars leave not long after the sun came up and so far I haven't smelt or heard anything to indicate that it's occupied.

When the little white house comes into view and I've confirmed my suspicions I stop breathing completely. Not a pleasant sensation, it's become uncomfortable for me now if I can't smell anything, almost scary. Which is possibly a flaw in my long term plan . . . .

Quickly I run from the trees up the back porch steps, pressing my ear up against the door and listening intently. No heartbeats. But what I can hear confuses me for a moment. I can hear electricity thrumming in the appliances that are still switched on, water dripping from a tap, insects scurrying around on fabrics, strange low shifting sounds and the ticking of several clocks. Familiar but alien, like me.

Determined I twist the door knob. Crushing it in my grip. Oh. Hollow, not solid. Gently I nudge the door, nothing. A little harder.

For some reason it surprises me that I actually am going to have to break in. But how? Window, door? Can I pick the lock? Like a fool I bend down and peer into it. Well I can see the insides, that's new.

Door. I twist the knob again and lean my shoulder into it, gently increasing the pressure until it pops inwards with a small protest.

Quickly I dart inside, closing it behind me, pausing to inspect the bright homely kitchen. There's a familiarity about it that strikes home just how much I've left behind and a tight ball of sadness forms inside me.

I don't have time for this . . . . into the hallway and down to what I presume are the bedrooms. The first one I try is decked out as an office. The next is the master, which has a full length mirror . . . .

I gasp in shock, sending the heavily scented air cascading down into my lungs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 4 Monster Meets World**

**BPOV**

To say that my first conscious attempt to (break) and re-enter society didn't go very well is an understatement.

That first look at myself is burnt into my brain with extra special clarity, a memory that's been underlined in big red marker pen, with stars around it. And a couple of exclamation marks.

It wasn't the sight of myself naked, I used be a teenage girl, we spend a lot of time considering ourselves naked and wondering what it all means. In fact in one part of my frantically active brain I was rather pleased with the changes, I've got bosoms, nice ones. And the kind of lithe toned body that I've always secretly admired. My skin was perfect and uniformly pale, like a white marble statue, with a faint echo of my sparkle, a shimmer.

It wasn't the Wild Woman of Canada hair either. I'd been combing through it with my fingers on a regular basis but it hadn't done much good. The stuff that was stuck in it was disgusting and explained the origin of the faint whiff that had been following me around for a while now. It was longer than I had remembered though, the less tangled ends trailing below my hips. I don't really remember my face, but the girl looking back at me wasn't _too _much of a shock in that regard, although I don't remember being that pretty, or that haughty looking.

It was the eyes that drew the gasp.

Huge, framed by long thick lashes, like one of the famous Hollywood makeup artists had been at them.

The most vivid and startling _orange_ irises I have ever seen. Flecked through with bright, glowing, _red_.

Demon's eyes.

It doesn't sound like much but it was so _alien._

And with my gasp came all the scents in the house.

It was too much. Worse after all these months of self-imposed exile.

My throat erupted in flames, the fire spreading out over my exposed skin, setting my nerve endings jangling and my limbs quivering like a race horse in the stalls.

Without a thought I blasted through the bedroom wall, heedless of the side of the house collapsing behind me and took off after the scent trails.

Intent. Needy. _Hunting_.

Uncaring I followed the trail of their cars directly, straight down the asphalt like a guided missile, blasting past the oncoming vehicles and setting them rocking in my wake.

If they hadn't turned in different directions at the highway I dread to think what would have happened. But I had to decide which one to follow and the instant it took was enough to stop me.

Shutting off my breathing I whirled away, back into the wilderness. Presumably leaving some startled drivers in my wake.

…..

It was months before I tried again. But all that time I was thinking about it, leaving my territory and drifting closer and closer to civilisation.

There were accidents. Or I should say, more innocent deaths.

But the mushroom theory worked. The more I was 'around' people, the more my powers to resist seemed to develop. But it was a costly exercise during which I let go of the illusion that I was in any way redeemable as a person.

Eventually I had to stop. My wilderness haven was running out. And I had to decide. Retreat or continue on.

Up until then my definition of 'around' people was skirting within a few miles of a town or crossing their scent trails long after the owner of the scent had moved on to safer place.

I chose to go on. Signing off on it mentally by the stealing and wearing of clothes.

At first I went back to breaking and entering while people were at work, honing my skills.

I took my first shower. Oh god I can still recall the _pleasure_ of it now as the hot water cascaded down my body and the detritus of the wilderness flowed out of my hair. Bliss.

Then I started breaking in and watching television. At once pleased and appalled that the world seems so gloriously unchanged by whatever changed me.

And then finally I stole some clothes that I could actually be seen in without someone calling out animal control and I walked into town. It was a Sunday evening and most people were indoors, oblivious to the horror that was strolling as innocently as possible down their streets.

I could still smell them and hear them, but having taken as much medicine as I could beforehand I was able to pass them by. Luckily the only people moving around outside were cocooned in the metal wombs of their cars.

I walked straight through without stopping and then ran for the hills. But I did it.

Like going to the gym, repetitions were they key. And it wasn't until I reached the stage that I could walk through a town while others were doing the same thing that it dawned on me I didn't move the way they did. So I learnt to incorporate moving with agonising slowness and blinking into my list of automated mental commands. Followed later by pretending to breathe, not looking anyone in the eye and not crushing inanimate objects.

Once I'd got that sussed I seemed to melt into the background in much the same way I remembered doing back home. Head down, eyes averted, innocuous, an unremarkable presence in the, sparse, crowd.

And for a while it was enough.

…..

Gradually I worked my way up to larger and larger towns. A mixed blessing. I was less likely to stand out but the scents and sounds were harder to deal with, the people closer, often brushing past me in a way that made my thirst spike. Even through our clothes I could feel the heat of their bodies, was I as sensitive to temperature as I was everything else and if so why didn't I feel hot? I was just _normal_.

My agile brain still hasn't finished processing all these weird things, even after all this time, let alone come up with an answer. For that I'm going to need other resources . . . .

I settled to people watching, something that felt familiar, huddled up on a bench in my oversized clothes. I watched everyone intently, the way they moved, their reflexes and I listened to all their words with my superhuman hearing. Then I would return to the wilds and practise what I'd seen and heard. Some of it. There's a whole other world out there to the one I lived in before and sometimes I wished I didn't know it existed.

After a while I started to notice, remember and covet other things. So many people wandering around listening to their iPods, talking on their cells, getting into their cars, buying simple things, letting themselves into their houses at the end of the day. Playing video games, watching television, welcoming friends, getting ready for a night out, arguing with their loved ones.

I could hear it all as I wandered the streets like a wraith, even if I couldn't see it.

…..

I discovered that some people smelt better than others, in a disturbingly food like way. And I learnt to pray, figuratively speaking, that I didn't encounter anyone with an open wound. The scent travels so much further on the air and my reaction was instinctive and deadly.

I realised fairly quickly that using all my unnatural speed rendered me pretty much unobservable to normal eyes. But I never killed anyone in a crowded place, somehow my fear of retribution, instinct for self-preservation, always tipped the scales in my favour and I managed to deflect myself. Aren't I nice?

My heart is like a heavy stone in my chest. Not completely gone but with apparently only the capacity to care about me. That's incredibly depressing, to feel so dead.

…..

Eventually I found my way into a city. Freaked out almost beyond reason by the overload of sensory input. I was mad to keep going, I should have turned tail at the first sign of trouble. My thirst was flaming within an hour and there was no way to quench it without murdering someone. There were just too many people, too much b-blood, the sound of it was so loud it seemed like it was whooshing around in my own body.

Disorientated I lost my usual caution, finding myself lost in the crowds, bumped and jostled on every side. I was in hell. Driven to the brink.

And then a huge man in a business suit, shouting into his phone and radiating outrage, shouldered into me. The impact would have knocked a normal person on their ass. But to me it was like the gentlest of shoves.

I heard his bones shatter, the veins and muscles tear as if he'd ploughed into a brick wall, the bloom of blood through his ruptured tissue. And I was moving away before his scream of agony rent the air, conscious of the other people looking around in confusion for whatever had assailed him. I knew I was strong but what am I, a walking rock?

I think that will always be the longest, hardest, walk of my life. Until night fell and I could move more naturally, to me anyway, flitting between the shadows in the backstreets.

Newly frightened it was a long time before I ventured back to civilisation.

But venture back I did.

….

Eavesdropping has become my number two activity. Number one still being to take my medicine.

In every town I learn something new without anyone knowing it.

Where the jobs are going and the employer doesn't ask questions. Which teenager has a fake ID that works and where he got it from. Where to buy drugs, a gun, get laid, what's on sale, who to avoid.

But I never spoke to anyone and I avoided physical contact at all costs. Just their warmth, all around me like walking space heaters, was enough to cope with.

I must have been getting better at blending in though because people started wanting to speak to me. There must be something about a young girl, obviously alone, that attracts the worst predators in society. Sometimes I had already heard the conversation in which their intentions for me were mentioned, with others there just seemed to be something in their eyes that gave them away. I was lucky, just dropping my pretence of being normal was always enough to make them recoil in horror, not breathing and not blinking for a few beats seemed to spark some deep seated sense of self-preservation in them.

The people who were genuinely concerned about me were the worst on every level. I still wanted to be helped and their kindness often brought on a storm of sobbing, but I frightened them away too. How could I even try to live with myself if I killed someone who wanted to help me?

I still felt a deep need to be around people but I can't say it was making me happy.

…..

If we're counting I'm a year and a half into my new life now.

I've forced myself to call it a life. Mind over matter.

But I am staring to see how I can perhaps make it one. The basics of it anyway. I need to stop wandering fretfully from place to place. I need a job. I need a home, albeit a basic one.

And so I chose a city in one of the less sunny northern states. Big enough to disappear, populous enough for the elements of society I would need, close enough to the wilds to meet my peculiar medicinal needs.

The perfect place to try.

First off I found myself a spot in the hills where people never go. And I've built myself a little home. It still looks like a kid threw it down and then made a hole in it with a stick, but it's mine. Here I've carefully stowed my meagre stock of clothes and the random crap I've collected on my travels.

Next, I got myself some ID so I can get a job. A night job so I don't have to skip when the sun comes out. It took a week of silent stalking but I finally found the right guy and plucked up the courage to approach him. I had to steal the money to pay for it, either that or give him a blow job. Despite what I've already overheard with my superhuman hearing I was more than a little freaked out to have someone seriously suggest that to me, which was kind of funny considering I'm technically a serial killer.

And so I'm out and about, looking for an employer with low expectations and unappealing smelling blood. And I'm not the only one. Of course I knew that not everyone got the kind of start in life I vaguely recall but its sobering to actually see it and live it. Especially when I don't get cold and hungry the way they do. I can hear how empty their stomachs are. Smell when one of them has taken drugs, tell when they're sick, or when they've given up another part of themselves to stay warm or get money for food.

There aren't words for the dichotomy of a world where a monster like me could be luckier than a real person.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 5 New Moon **

**JPOV**

Carlisle's set face is glowing weirdly in the orange dashboard lights as we race through the night toward the airport. The huge tyres of his Mercedes eating up the road, powerful engine throbbing gently under the hood.

The tension in the air is palpable, pressing me into my seat, filling the car with invisible concrete.

This is all my fault.

The culmination of two lifetimes of bad deeds. Fate's bony finger of judgement. A fickle finger that like the harsh light of tonight's new moon isn't just pointing at me. Collateral damage is the technical term for it.

The series of events that have brought us to this started a little over eighteen months ago when I killed that girl who crashed her truck in Forks.

Damn she tasted good. My last non-vegetarian meal. If I close my eyes I can still sense the unique flavour of her on my tongue.

At first no one was any more pissed at me than usual. I slipped. I dealt with it. I killed the only werewolf in the area, protectors my ass, and I buried the bodies.

Alice took it hard though. Blaming herself for not taking care of me well enough, not being proficient enough with her foresight. I _hate_ that. Nothing of what's bad about me is her doing, she can only take credit for the good bits, for taming the monster and turning him into some semblance of a man.

The collective annoyance turned to trepidation when we realised who I'd killed. Chief of Police Swan's daughter. Newly arrived in town to finish out school. She was finished alright.

We knew they'd never find her body, it was a hundred miles in the other direction from where they were looking but it was a tense time. There might not have been any more wolves in La Push but there were plenty of people with long memories and accusing eyes.

We lingered as long as we felt we needed to and then Carlisle announced his new job at a hospital in LA and we left.

I wasn't popular for a while. We hate moving. We have to do it often enough because we don't age, so to leave early because one of us slipped up and killed someone is particularly galling. And it isn't always me.

The new town was depressingly the same as the last one. Cold, wet, dark, _small_. Even the high school felt like it had been modelled on the same blueprint, the kids cast out of the same moulds.

But there _was_ something different.

Edward fell in love. With a human.

It's unusual but not unheard of.

You bite them. They change. And off you trot into the happily ever after.

Of course that was too easy for Edward, the original masochist.

Right from the start he was violently opposed to changing her, even though that was what she wanted. That was dangerous to her and to us. Even vampires have rulers, The Volturi, a band of brothers in Italy. There aren't many rules but the main one has always been not to reveal our existence to humans, don't tell, don't kill recklessly, pretty simple really. Having her with us, knowing what we were, it was a risk in itself.

But we were all besotted with her in our way. The Cullen's missing piece, Edward's mate, our last single sibling no longer alone. Alice loved her almost as much as Edward did, her new soon to be sister, she was always sure Edward would come around and change her. Hell, we all were.

The whole thing was incredibly romantic, according to Alice, and the air was certainly thick with intense emotions of longing and lust.

Edward's a thinker not a doer. And while he over thought his problem with taking her soul away in order to keep her forever, the girl, Marie was sucked further and further into our world. It seemed like the impasse would go on indefinitely. And it might have done. If it weren't for me.

Alice wanted to throw Marie an eighteenth birthday party and invite half the town. Carlisle very tactfully bartered her down to family only. But my wife has always been able to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear and it was as lavish as she could make it. With a cake, of all ludicrous things in a house full of vampires, who'd rather eat the birthday girl.

And it all would have been fine if Marie hadn't given herself a paper cut opening one of her presents.

I started for her automatically, it's instinctive and I wasn't the only one. But she wasn't in any real danger until Edward, the overprotective fool, shoved her behind him and into the table with the cake and Alice's designer glass crockery.

The air was suddenly full of the scent of blood and the snarling of seven inveterate killers.

Despite our differences we work well as a family, everybody knew it was me they needed to worry about and they were on me in an instant, wrestling me to the ground a split second before my hands snapped Edward's neck.

No matter how much we consider ourselves to be top of the evolutionary ladder, looking down on everything else, we're basically just animals, often allowing ourselves to be ruled by only our baser instincts. She was prey. And she was _mine_.

It was only when Rose sank her teeth into my calf that some part of my higher brain function returned and I allowed myself to be dragged unceremoniously outside.

But by then the damage was done and Edward's worst fears confirmed. It _was_ too dangerous for Marie to be with us.

I tried to point out that it wouldn't be the case if he'd just change her but at that moment I was enjoying my lowest ever standing in the family, if I'd won the lottery they'd have burnt the money and my sorry ass along with it.

Even I was ashamed of myself.

I still don't understand Edward's decision. He claimed to love her with his whole heart but he was prepared to walk away from her, to never see her again, so that she wouldn't be exposed to the constant danger of being around vampires. I'm sorry, but I could never have left Alice like that.

And now she's left _me_ . . . .

I'll admit it, I'm scared. It's not a feeling I'm used to dealing with, there isn't much out there for me to worry about. But _this_? I can't do anything about it, can't rip it apart and burn the pieces, can't choke it to death with a squeeze of my hand or intimidate it into submission. I'm powerless.

He must have broken her heart when he told her we were going, attempting to get her to believe that he didn't really love her. I still don't know if that was for her benefit or his but it certainly made a mess of _him_. We packed up and moved back to Denali to stay with our 'cousins' while Esme found us a new house and Carlisle looked for a job. Edward only stayed a few days and I was relieved when left, his pain was _killing_ me . . . .

Alice was distraught, she'd promised Edward she wouldn't look for Marie's future but I know she couldn't help herself. It's as automatic as breathing for her to look out for the people she cares about.

The months crawled slowly by. Edward checked in from time to time. And then one night, while we were out hunting, Alice had a vision of Marie dying. I tried to talk her out of interfering but she was insistent, if she could stop it she would, and if not at least she could comfort Marie's family. Swearing me to silence she left straight away.

But you can't keep secrets in a house full of eternally bored vampires with supernatural hearing. Leastwise not in ours.

Rose mulled over the news that Marie was dead and then decided to call Edward and tell him, reasoning that he'd stop his voyage of miserable self flagellation and come home.

Of course the stupid fucker didn't. Alice 'saw' him call Marie's dad only to be told he was at a funeral, he didn't ask whose. We haven't been able to get hold of him since to tell him Marie is fine, Alice got to her just in time.

The whole thing then descended into a Greek tragedy and I'm not sure who the unlucky hero is going to be . . . .

Edward, whose sparkly ass I'm going to kick for eternity if he survives this, has gone to The Volturi to beg for death. The only thing strong enough to kill a vampire is another vampire so if you're suicidal pretty much the only option you've got is to antagonise one and hope they get the message. He could have snuck off and found someone outside the family to help him with that, why involve the fucking Volturi, is he deliberately trying to get the rest of us killed as well?

Of course my big hearted wife saw the whole thing. She and the girl were on the flight to Italy _before_ she rang me and told us what Edward was doing. So I couldn't stop her.

Oh Alice. _Why_?

Carlisle and I are racing desperately to catch up, except we aren't going to make it.

Edward won't answer his cell and Alice 'saw' that he wouldn't believe her if she tried to persuade him that Marie was alive without proof. So they're going to Volterra together to stop him. My wife and our _human_.

I don't even know _where_ to start with what's wrong with that idea . . . .

Now Alice isn't answering her cell either and Carlisle can't get hold of Aro, his Volturi contact.

This is all my fault . . . . All my fault . . . . All my fault . . . .

The airport entrance comes into view and for the first time in an hour Carlisle expels a breath and eases his foot off the gas.

When his cell rings it only takes a few words to pitch me into a nightmare.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 6 Latchi's **

**BPOV**

I was lucky, I managed to get a job pretty quickly and a far better one than I'd prepared myself for.

Kitchen Porter might not seem like much to anybody else, especially when you realise it basically means human dishwasher, but it means everything to me.

Everything about it is ideal.

I start late in the evening and work into the early hours. I discovered that food smells so disgusting, in particular while it's cooking, that all other scents are pretty much eradicated. Scrubbing pans is easy when you are whatever I am. Restaurants are the best place to eavesdrop and people watch. It comes with a uniform. My new skin doesn't wrinkle in warm water. The hot steamy atmosphere doesn't affect me or make my hair frizz. And any kitchen is guaranteed to be vermin free if I spend time in it on a regular basis. Even insects will avoid me if I stand still long enough.

I didn't expect to get anywhere when I saw the sign but it turned out the owner, Paulo Scolatchi, had a track record of helping young runaways get a bunk up. And in fairness all the eavesdropping I'd done helped me lie quite convincingly.

The money isn't great but I don't need much, I've got no rent to pay and no food buy. My first goal is to get a laptop and I should be able to do that in just a couple of weeks.

The work is easy to pick up and the kitchen so busy that there isn't time for any idle chit chat to expose my woefully inadequate social skills. In fact other than yes and no I don't think I exchanged two words or eye contact with anybody all night except Paulo who kept popping back to check on me. For the most part someone told me to do something and I did it.

Cash in hand, Paulo was as good as his word, I'm taking myself off for a celebratory hunt. Meat eater I think, they always taste the best.

...

The Chefs, Bob, Joe and trainee Tel aren't chatty, but the waitresses are.

They didn't bother with me last night because kitchen porters don't always turn up for a second shift but I can hear them talking about me now as I'm getting changed.

"Bob says she's another one of Paulo's waifs and strays." A nasal female voice drawls dismissively.

"So?" A lighter more feminine voice asks archly. "I started out in the kitchen too. Are you suggesting there's something wrong with _me_?"

No answer and the owner of the second voice snorts.

"I thought she looked nice." A third voice chips in.

"You think everyone's nice Jenna, even that guy who stole your car after he'd orgasmed you into unconsciousness." Joe voice observes dryly.

"He was nice." The girl objects. "There wasn't a mark on it when the cops found it."

Laughter.

I pause at the restroom door. Torn between elation and terror.

People, real people. Colleagues. Oh god, I'm going to have to talk to them.

With a deep unnecessary breath I open the door with what I hope is a winning smile on my face.

"Holy shit." Joe breathes quietly into the sudden silence.

"Um, Hi." Odd, no blush. What happened to the blush? I used to flush up like a tomato whenever I was the center of attention.

I guess it's a heartbeat to them but to me their scrutiny of me, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head, takes forever.

"Hi." They all greet me as one.

The owner of the first voice is tall and dark with regular but unremarkable features and a straight up and down body in her black skirt, white shirt, waitress uniform. The second girl is tiny with interestingly colored hair and a small ring in her nose, she's practically hopping on the spot with barely controlled energy. The one they call Jenna is blonde and pretty, filling her uniform in all the right places and beaming like a lighthouse.

Stocky dark Joe is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"Bella." He smirks as he makes the introductions. "The black haired witch is Sandi, our longest serving waitress, the little one who causes all the trouble is Kala and our dumb blonde is Jenna. Be nice to her girls, she can actually follow simple instructions and she hasn't broken anything yet."

With that he tips us a wink and saunters back to the kitchen.

Winning smile. Winning smile.

The three girls frown at me slightly.

Fewer teeth? My teeth seem to upset people for some reason, they look okay to me but . . . .

"I love your eyes, are they contacts?" Kala asks, darting forward for a closer look.

Instinctively I flinch away from her and to my surprise she stops, smiling at me in understanding.

"No. Just a bit unusual I guess." I mumble apologetically.

"Hmm. I'll have to see if I can get contacts that color, they'd go with my hair." She muses.

"Freaky eyes and freaky hair. There's a combination." Sandi drawls, favouring me with a tiny smile which I assume is meant to take the sting out of her comment.

"Oh feck off." Kala huffs good naturedly. "We can't all be a member of the Borg, some of us are individuals."

"I thought he was a tennis player, and the band was Abba?" Jenna asks distractedly.

"Oh hell, you really are the thi . . . ."

"Ladies, customers are setting up their own tables, I am ashamed!" Paulo's shout cuts Sandi off before she can get going and with rueful smiles they all dart out into the restaurant leaving me to make my way to the kitchen.

Real people.

And although my throat is simmering gently I haven't wanted to kill any of them yet. This might actually work.

…..

The restaurant cooks good honest food, according to the comments I keep hearing from the dining room, and from what I can tell the clientele are mainly college kids and young professionals. Jenna certainly seems to think so, she's looking for a potentially rich man to make an honest woman of her and apparently this is one of the best places to do that.

Which means that we're always massively busy and so even though I've been here a week now I've still done little more than exchange pleasantries with the others.

And that suits me fine. Best not to run before I can walk.

Sandi has made a deliberate effort to quiz me but so far some kitchen pan related crisis has managed to rescue me, though I've a plausible cover story prepared. Are all chefs so highly strung? Once service starts there's always tension in the air and I can smell the adrenaline flooding their systems, at least I assume that's what it is, it changes the smell of their blood. Improves it immeasurably. Thankfully the food deterrent is still working, it smells like the worst kind of effluent. Except milk. Which smells like effluent mixed with vomit and sulphur dioxide. So vile it's caused me to realise that I no longer have a gag reflex.

Actually interacting with other people on a regular basis _is_ having an effect on me though. Every now and then something will trigger a memory. A sudden vision that appears in my brain like a Technicolor flashback. The first time it happened I dropped a stack of plates though my reactions were quick enough to catch them again before they hit the floor. They're all still there, like a magazine photo story where someone's cut some of them out of the sequence. You can sort of imagine how they go together but important bits seem to be missing. Not memories then, snapshots.

Its disconcerting to say the least but I'm kind of getting used to that now. Sadly.

My ears keep working though, even the huge noise of the kitchen doesn't affect my ability to be aurally nosey.

Paulo is a confirmed bachelor, pursued avidly by a large number of ladies of a certain age. He's a very nice man and it's his bon ami as much as the food that keeps the customers coming back.

Bob is a happily married man who dotes on his kids. God I hope he never brings them in, what if I . . . .

Joe is single and Sandi has the hots for him big style. I can see why, he's kind of cute with a good sense of humour.

Tel is quiet and cheerful, serious about becoming a chef with visions of a restaurant of his own one day. The others are always teasing him about it.

Sandi is the daughter of one of Paulo's old college friends. I haven't worked her out yet. She doesn't seem to like or dislike anybody, except Joe who isn't giving anything away on that front.

Kala was a runaway, only a year older than me, who fetched up here in more or less the same state I did. Desperate but without the homicidal tendencies.

Jenna is exactly what she claims to be. A happy go lucky blonde with more on her chest than her brain. And totally at peace with it.

There are others of course as the shifts change but we're the ones who mainly work together at Latchi's.

And it's wonderful, like the dentist has stopped drilling on a raw nerve.

The nights fly by. The days less so.

I hunt my medicine obsessively and I mull over what I've learned.

But I'm not happy.

I don't belong here.

I can't explain why. Is it because of what I am? Some parts I'm changing, learning to control, others seem to be permanent. Is it the emerging memories? I can see my mom's face now, recognise our shared heritage. I don't remember her completely but I miss her so much it's about as physically painful as anything seems to be able to get for me. I want to talk to her so badly, I want her to tell me that everything will be okay. But even with all the gaps in my memories I've a deep rooted feeling that I wouldn't be able to find her, that I won't know where she is. There's a reason for it, I just can't seem to latch onto it . . . .

Argh!

Frustration and anger are very closely linked for me these days and in a rage I flit off to 'murder' some trees before I go to work.

The kitchen is in uproar when I arrive. Bob has appendicitis and is in the hospital. Joe is cursing like a marine and even Tel is snapping at everyone like a baby alligator.

Paulo, who is cooking and charging out to greet diners like a rhino after a land rover, shoves an apron at me and tells me to do whatever Tel wants.

Great.

Mentally I take a deep breath. I'm not risking a real one with all this adrenaline surging around.

This is life. This is what I want.

Chopping. This I can do.

After a while a man I've never seen before arrives and takes over my abandoned duties.

Stirring. Smelly but doable.

It's a busy night and stress levels are still rising. Everyone is flushed and their blood is calling to my parched scratchy throat. Paulo's heart is pounding away in his pudgy chest, reverberating in my ears.

With an enormous effort of will I filter it all into the back of my brain so I can concentrate on what Tel and Joe are asking for.

Chopping, stirring, fetching from the freezer, even for me the night is passing in a blur.

"Bella! Bella!" Kala flies in through the swing doors. "Jenna's twisted her ankle, I need your help to carry her out back."

Throwing down my knife I hurry after her into the dining room without a second thought.

Jenna is sat on the step between the upper and lower levels, whimpering quietly and enjoying the attentions of several guys.

"Jeez Kala." She hisses in pain as we help her away. "Couldn't you have left me five more minutes? That big guy was gonna drive me home. Ooh, ouch. God Bella, you're as hard as a rock."

"Sorry. I exercise a lot." I feel hard to her? Experimentally I poke my thigh with my free hand. Feels normal to me.

Kala and I ease her into a chair in the corner of the kitchen. It's the first time I've really touched another person in a long time, I had to be so careful not to hurt her accidently and her body heat felt like it was burning me. She was so soft, so, _fragile_.

Relieved beyond words to be away from her I step back hastily leaving Kala to look after her and scurrying back to my tasks. So many things about this I hadn't considered, so much that might not ultimately work out like I hoped . . . .

The pressure doesn't let up and several times a little voice of warning points out that I might not be ready for this. My throat is on fire now and something else must have changed because Joe and Tel keep flicking me strange glances.

After a while I admit that I need a break and hurry to the rest room.

In the mirror I look disturbingly the same as always except my eyes are _black_ and there are huge shadows underneath them, like I haven't slept for a week. Which of course I haven't. What fresh hell is this? And why now?

Should I leave?

No, I can't do that. I'd be letting too many people down. But couldn't the alternatives be worse?

Undecided and agitated I make my way back to the kitchen.

"Thank god." Joe growls, shoving a lettuce at me. "Don't you wig out on me too. Chop that and then get some more beef out of the fridge, the steakheads seem to be out tonight."

"Okay." I stammer, flitting to the cutting board at my normal speed.

Looking up I find Tel blinking at me in confusion.

Oops.

Steady Bella.

"Tel!" Joe barks. "Stop staring at the babe and get that chicken quartered."

"Yes Chef!" Tel responds, visibly shaking himself and accidently plunging the wickedly sharp knife straight into the back of his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 7 Into the Fuego **

**BPOV**

Tel might have only seen the blood pooling around the knife but to me it was like a fountain. A hypnotic fountain of microscopic droplets.

And I'm on him, knocking him to the floor, before he's even hitched in a breath to gasp.

My brain, that diabolical organ in my skull that won't shut up, is calculating how best to capitalise on this unexpected bonus even as another part of me is preparing to scream in horror.

I don't want to do this. I don't _want _to be a monster.

As my lips seek out the wound a voice screaming in my head reminds me that this is Tel. My colleague. A person. Who wants his own restaurant one day, the only one who scrapes _all_ the food out of the pan _before_ giving it to me to wash, who carries the heavy stuff for me and has _the_ most unfortunate taste in music.

Miraculously I roll away from him and scramble to my feet. Trembling from head to foot.

His eyes are on mine, round and terrified, heart hammering away in his chest.

"What the fuck?" Joe storms, striding across the kitchen.

"Sorry." Tel stammers. "I cut myself, Bella rushed to help me and we slipped over."

"What is this fucking comedy night?" Joe growls, hauling Tel to his feet. "Let me see."

He bends down to examine Tel's hand, unknowingly releasing a fresh waft of blood into the air.

"Doesn't look too bad." Joe decides. "Bella, get the first aid kit, it's in the restroom."

I'm holding myself completely rigid now, ordering my disobedient mind to lock down my muscles and keep me still, refusing to even blink in case the movement sets me off again.

"For fuck's sake move!" Joe orders. "Before he bleeds all over the floor."

For a split second my eyes meet Tel's freaked out ones and it's too much.

I rush for the restroom, passing the first aid kit, opening the window and stealing away into the night.

...

Collecting my things from the home I was so naively proud of, I run. Mind in chaos, legs on autopilot.

It could so easily have ended in disaster. I could have killed everyone in the kitchen, slaked my thirst on them and been gone before anyone even noticed. I had it all worked out. Like a game of chess. What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?

I shouldn't be doing this, I shouldn't be trying to live like a normal person, near real people. It isn't safe. It's never going to be safe.

The night breeze carries the scent of deer into my nostrils and immediately I let my higher brain functions fall away.

I'm so thirsty, my throat is so _painful_ . . . .

Sometime later the _high_ of taking my medicine wears off and everything starts again, like a super computer booting up, my mind fires off all its mental pathways to see what it's missed while I've not been paying attention. Inescapable.

What do I do now, where will I go?

Utterly miserable I curl myself into a ball, sobbing quietly.

One of the other downsides to getting a job was it got me thinking, properly this time, about what I want my life to be in the future. I hadn't got quite as far as a husband and kids but I'd been idly meandering my way in that direction I realise now. I don't want to be alone forever. I'd like to think there's someone out there for me to grow old and die with although with me being a murderer and a freak that's probably a bit of a stretch. But friends, colleagues, a _life_ of some kind, am I asking too much to want that?

Of course I am. I have no right to it. They'd never be safe, that's if anyone would even want to befriend me in the first place. My mom was the only real friend I ever had and that was back when I was a regular teenager, who'd care about me now?

...

I lay there for hours, making decisions and plans, then changing them. Arguing with myself like a crazy person. Even though I didn't want to face up to anything just then my stupid mind had to be doing something and picking apart the wreckage of my life was it.

I should have taken myself back to Canada, shed my clothes in the wilderness and stayed the hell away from civilisation. That's what a nicer person would have done.

Instead I'm here in a new city, with a new ID and a new job. After all, I didn't actually kill Tel . . . .

Bella Swan. Kitchen Portering Professional.

The club is called Fuego and they provide a limited range of cooked _fried_ food for the patrons to blot up their alcohol with.

The clientele are certainly different, I'm learning a new curse word every few minutes. The air is thick with smoke, sweat and alcohol fumes and I can barely smell the blood.

The cook is Stacey, the biggest, ugliest woman I have seen in my entire life, I think she hired me because I didn't seem to be afraid of her. Which I _am_, she looks like she could snap me like a twig and would if the fancy took her.

I know I shouldn't be doing this and this time I'll be more careful I swear. I just can't bear the thought of being completely alone.

The work is easy and the pace considerably less frantic. Especially after about 2am when Stacey tends to be too drunk to cook.

I'm just cleaning up the last of the mess when Daryl, one of the doormen, saunters in and plonks himself down on one of the rickety stools.

"Do me a favour Bells, make a weary man a coffee will you?"

Nodding mutely I oblige, grateful he doesn't take milk and trying to chase down a memory his arrival has tweaked.

There's something about him I really like. Bigger than Stacey he isn't remotely scary, unless you break one of the house rules, his head is shaved and his clothes are carefully selected to look like they'll burst off his massive frame and reveal his rich brown skin at any given moment. But he seems like a nice guy and I've never overheard him say a bad word about anybody.

"Where's Stace?" He asks after savouring his first sip.

"Out front dancing."

"Looks like you're all done in here, why don't you head on out and have some fun too?"

Norm, the guy who owns the club, is an _extremely_ relaxed employer. As long as he's earning enough to pay his bills and fund his habits he doesn't care what goes on in Fuego. And as long as there's no comeback on him he doesn't care how illegal it is either.

Like I said, the people who come here are _very_ different to the ones at Latchi's.

"I can't dance." I mutter, wiping the countertop.

"What?" Daryl snorts. "A woman who moves like you can't dance? I don't believe it."

I'd love to ask him what that means. I settle for a small shrug.

"You know you're very difficult to flirt with." He chuckles.

"Um."

Laughing he sets his mug down.

"Come on. I got five minutes left on my break. I'll show you one move."

I must have looked terrified because he smiles at me, flashing his perfect white teeth.

"I'm not gonna bite you babe. I just think its criminal not be able to dance. Dancing's good for the soul."

"I, um . . . ."

"You um it, I'll sing it."

I giggle.

"Come on, you know you want to . . . ." He teases, heading for the door.

"Just one." I answer, ordering my furiously protesting brain to shut the hell up, it isn't exactly going to be ballroom dancing, I doubt we'll even get within two feet of each other.

What I hadn't allowed for was Daryl's affect on everyone else. Within seconds we've our own space in the center of the floor and virtually every eye in the place is on us.

I really can't dance, what you do when you're naked in the forest stays in the forest . . . .

The music is pounding, I can feel the bass rattling my insides.

Daryl smiles encouragingly and starts to undulate his body to the beat.

Tentatively I try to copy him, shifting my weight awkwardly from foot

This seems to amuse him.

"You weren't joking were you babe?"

Gently he takes my wrists, swaying them in time with his own movements.

"Relax." He chuckles. "The puritans stopped burning people at the stake for this centuries ago. Feel the music."

I can, I want to snap, I can feel it vibrating my insides like a wind chime and assaulting my eardrums like an artillery barrage. You try busting some moves with all this crap going on . . . .

"DARYL!" The other doorman appears at the top of the steps leading down from outside. "Fight man, stop chasing pussy and get yer ass up here!"

"Gotta go babe." And he releases me, hurrying away, I can see him slipping into his bad ass persona with every step.

Relieved I escape back to the safety of the kitchen.

…..

Two nights later he's back for another coffee.

We chat idly while he drinks it. Well he does, all my spying on people has given me lots of ideas but not the courage required to open my mouth and make small talk.

As he gets up to leave he throws a small bag at me.

"For you."

"What is it?" I ask stupidly.

"Gloves." He says sauntering out. "Noticed the other night your hands are ice cold. Gotta take better care of yourself Bells."

He bought me gloves . . . .

Bells!

Charlie used to call me Bells. My dad.

Oh god. _Charlie_. I went to live with him. In Forks. He bought me a truck. How could I completely forget my own father? I went to live with him because mom got married again and she wanted to go on the road with Phil, her husband. It's the last thing I remember. Does he know what happened to me? What did happen to me? Would he be able to tell me?

I need to call him. Tell him. Ask him.

Checking the time I rip my apron off and head for the door, no one will miss me this late.

Trotting down the street I fumble in my pocket looking for change for a phone. He was a policeman, all I need to do is get the number for the Forks police department.

Spotting a booth I dart inside. Hands shaking so much I can barely stab out the numbers. Feeding the coins and tapping my foot maniacally as the operator connects me.

"Forks Police Department. Chief Swan speaking."

"Dad?" Shocked I forget to speak slowly.

"Hello. Hello?" A long sigh. "Mike Newton if that's you I'm coming round to shove my nightstick up your ass. You need to quit drinking son, its making you stupid."

"Dad?"

"Bells?" His voice is quavery. Disbelieving. Hurt.

My words dry up. What am I _doing_? Can't my stupid brain get anything right? What's the _point_ if it can't even make me speak when I need to . . . .

"Bells?" His voice is a little stronger this time.

My mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out.

He sighs heavily.

"Newton." He growls suddenly angry. "You're in deep shit this time. Get the Vaseline out. I'll be there in five."

With a click the line goes dead.

Oh _dad._

Sobbing I hang up carefully and wander away. A complete mess.

And the guy that tried to mug me?

He tasted okay.

For an asshole.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 8 Fuego Out**

**BPOV**

I had the next night off. Just as well. I was busy remodelling the local landscape. Venting my rage, frustration and self loathing on something that couldn't fight back. Like a big girl.

And again I faced a choice.

Go back to Fuego and try to carry on. Or run away.

The subject of Charlie I parked, adding cowardice to the list of my crimes.

I _tried_ to reason it through. I moved to Forks to live with him. I didn't want to but it seemed to be in everyone's best interests. So how did I end up in a forest miles from there, like _this_? I'm so confused and frightened by _this_ that I can't ask, in case I can't deal with the answer. I'm not really sure what paranoia is but it's a label . . . .

The guy I killed. He looked mean, like a bad person and I bet I wasn't the first person he mugged with that knife. I hated him in a way I couldn't describe for hours afterwards. I _blamed _him. He _made_ me kill him. And he _deserved_ it.

But then after I'd calmed down I started to think more clearly.

I didn't know anything about him but what I saw or smelt in front of me. I couldn't read his mind. I had no idea why he was there doing what he was doing. No idea what cards life had dealt him. Maybe when he wasn't mugging lonely frightened girls he was at home looking after his sick mother. Perhaps he had a disabled kid to take care of, with crippling medical bills to pay. Hell, for all I know someone even nastier could have kidnapped his wife and threatened to kill her if he didn't mug someone at knifepoint.

The thing is, I don't know anything about him.

And it's not my right to be judge, jury and executioner. I'm hardly qualified. Since he isn't the first person I've killed, not by a long way.

I can't get around my _problem_ by deciding who lives and who dies.

That's worse than losing it and killing someone at random, which is my normal modus operandi.

Latin. I used to love that at school, the sudden realisation that you recognise the words because they're still in use today . . . .

Lousy over achieving brain, can't concentrate on anything for more than a minute at a time . . . .

I wish I could sleep. I feel exhausted, somewhere deep inside me, but my pointless brain and stupid body just won't stop, not even for a second.

Or maybe I'm depressed.

Now there's a word that gets regularly misused.

Oh for the love of . . . .

I need to run. Run and run and run.

…..

With a deep sense of foreboding I present myself in the kitchen for my next shift.

How long is it going to take me to admit that I can't live like a normal person? How many more people are going to die?

Nothing dramatic happens. The night follows its usual course and with a sigh of relief I head home to my mud hut. I'm experimenting with a new design.

And the next night. And the next.

It's wrong to say I'm relaxing, the whole word only represents a concept to me now. After a dose of medicine I feel something resembling it, when I'm running and pushing myself to the limits, then too.

Another couple of nights pass. I work, I return home without incident. I hunt, wander the forest, huddle and listen in on the streets.

And time passes.

I don't even have my nervous but strangely exciting conversations with Daryl to distract me. He's on a course. How to Break Heads With Dignity, or something like that.

I'm assuming I have a bit of a crush on him but I'm trying to tell myself it's just because he's been nice to me. Treated me as a person. Brought me a present. _Seen _me. I can't think of a single reason why he'd actually be interested in me, no matter how much the idea suffuses me with warmth. Bits of me are apparently more normal than others.

Finally I get my long awaited laptop. And use my long remembered, overheard, Wi-Fi hack. A small goal achieved.

Fancying myself in the role of research scientist I settle on a table in a coffee shop with a Latte I won't drink and effectively Google myself.

Not the Bella Swan bit.

The monster bit.

Drinks blood.

Second entry, Vampire.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. If I'm a vampire then thousands of years of accumulated knowledge are so far wide of the mark I might as well publish a book in it. But hey, at least I'll have been fashionable since the 18th century.

Sore throat. Reasons to seek medical care. I don't think so.

And so it goes on.

Unnaturally strong. Superheroes or take your pick, even I couldn't be bothered to read all the entries.

Sparkling skin. Beauty products.

Gold eyes. Baseball teams, eye shadow and eye wateringly expensive contacts. No wonder everyone thinks I'm strange.

Impervious skin. Back to superheroes again.

Cold to the touch. Very popular in fiction and music. Or I might need to see a doctor.

Five lattes, tipped into a convenient plant pot, and five hours later, I'm scraping the bottom of the research barrel.

Unable to eat. Need a doctor. Unable to go to the toilet. Same. No heartbeat. Dead. Not breathing. Dead. No pulse. Dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

Dead end.

And now it's time to go to work.

Still, it was only my first try and my stupid brain is at least good for recording all the tangents I need to follow next time.

It's a slow start tonight, people seem to come out later on a Friday, but they stay later too.

Stacey isn't in a good mood, I daren't ask why but as ever I'm curious, what's going on in her life that's making her angry. Cat got run over? Boyfriend dumped her? Tax bill? Didn't get enough sleep?

"Bella." She announces after a couple of hours. "I'm done with this shit. Don't burn yourself on the fryer. Have a nice life."

And handing me her apron she strides out, banging the door to the alleyway behind her.

What the _fuck_?

Unthinkingly I put the apron on. Then I scurry out front looking for Daryl, thank god he's back tonight.

I find him on the door, idly surveying the thin trickle of early starters.

"Hey Bells, walking on the wild side?"

I take a moment to consider that he's pleased to me see me. I _like_ that.

"What's up?" He asks, noting my pinched and worried face. God I hope my eyes aren't black. Not like last time.

Oh for god's sake. It's a kitchen related hitch not a natural disaster, get a grip, so there'll be no fries tonight, the world's not going to end. And nobody needs to die.

"Stacey's gone!"

"Walked out?"

"Yes. Out. Gone. What am I going to do?"

"For a start you need to calm down babe. She's always walking out." He chuckles, laying his arm across my shoulders and guiding me back to the kitchen. "Then we'll call Norm. He'll tell us he doesn't give a fuck and then we can put up the sign we keep for these occasions."

He fishes it out from behind one of the cupboards and waves it at me.

'No Food Tonight. Cook's Wasted. Fuego's apologies for the inconvenience.'

"Then." He continues. "You can come out front with me and watch the freaks go by."

And so it comes to pass. Sans apron I find myself outside, leaning against the wall by the door, breathing in the semi clean air, watching and listening to the world go by. With Daryl smiling at me from time to time.

I feel . . . . Fine.

Maybe I should be looking for a job outdoors.

After an hour the customers are literally pouring in, Daryl and the other doorman, Carl, are at their busiest, counting heads and turning away the young, the intoxicated and the previously expelled.

Most take it in good part but a few seem to be deeply offended and finally depart muttering or shouting their feelings on the matter.

Inside it sounds like everyone's having a good time, there aren't any complaints about the lack of hot food, quite the opposite in fact.

Daryl attempts to engage me in conversation but what with my short comings and the swirling crowds it's not easy for him.

I like that he's still trying though.

Despite staying well back more and more people are noticing me. Wondering who I am and why I'm loitering here at the entrance to the club.

"She's a hooker." Someone observes.

"What?" His friend laughs. "Dressed like a bag lady? She's with the doormen. Probably some uber doorman like Patrick Swayze."

"Fucking hell. Have you seen that? She looks like a fucking supermodel."

Me?

"If there's one like that outside imagine what the pussy'll be like inside."

Ew.

"Hey! Come in with me darling instead of hanging out here with these losers!"

"Are you." Daryl growls. "Calling me a loser?"

"Um. No? No sir." My wannabe date swallows convulsively and peers up into Daryl's smiling face.

"Good. Now get your freckly ass to the back of the line!"

Mr Freckles stumbles away and I laugh out loud. Shocking myself. When was the last time I . . . .

"You should do that more often." Daryl observes. "It looks good on you."

And cue warmth without blush.

Suddenly I _do_ want to talk to him. I want to know more about him, at the same time that I'm trying to work out what I could possibly tell him about me that wouldn't have him running for the hills.

The crowd ebbs and flows and we manage to snatch snippets of a conversation. Not much on my part but I'm trying. Fortunately he's not the interrogating type, more an observer and commentator. Like me.

"That guy." He drawls, nodding toward the departing back of another unhappy rejected patron. "Is trouble with a capital T. Remember and stay away babe."

"He's right Bella." Carl chips in. "Guy should wear a fucking bell round his neck to warn all the decent folk away from him. And on that happy note I'm gonna get me some coffee. See you in ten."

Daryl smiles at me apologetically as we get busy again but I smile back happily. It might not seem like much but to me this is like a little slice of heaven. Not much like the life I remember, I seem to have skipped a few years when it comes to growing into nightclub culture, and despite everything that's happened I'm still not actually old enough to drink.

That thought makes me smile and think of Charlie. He'd have the mother of all fits if he could see me now.

I think I'd actually be quite content right now if I could shut off my overactive senses. They're bombarding with information I don't need, don't want, but can't avoid processing. Mental spam. Maybe there's a filter I can download . . . .

A scent registers in my brain that grabs my attention.

Trouble with a capital T. I can smell him a long time before he lopes into view.

What to do, what to do?

The instant he turns the corner, but still before Daryl will be able to see him I speak up.

"Your man's coming back." I point up the block and Daryl squints in that direction, spotting him after a couple seconds.

"Ah shit." He sighs. "He's done this before. Bells, do me a favour and go fetch Carl, just in case."

With a nod I flit inside using my nose to track Carl quickly.

He's using the restroom. Great.

Impatiently I hop from foot to foot until he comes out, tucking his shirt into his pants.

"That guy, trouble, he's coming back."

Immediately he pushes past me and hurries outside, with me crowding his heels, I can hear the commotion outside even if he can't yet.

With a roar Carl launches himself out the door, grabbing Trouble by the back of shirt and pulling him off Daryl who is down on the ground.

He seems to be a handful and once again I'm hopping from foot to foot but Daryl gets to his feet apparently unhurt and wades into help.

Trouble's not a big guy but wiry and strong and the two of them are struggling to hold onto him. Everyone else is crowding round, blocking my view and instinctively I push my way forward, with less than my usual gentleness.

In the center an epic struggle is underway I can hear the soft grunts, shouted curses, blows thudding into the soft tissues and interrupting the blood flow. Hear the hearts racing, smell the adrenaline pumping.

And belatedly it dawns on me that a fight is not the best place for me to be. Surely there will be blood?

Automatically my brain checks my throat, normal. Good because there's no way I'm leaving, Carl or Daryl may get hurt and I might be able to help.

Somehow Trouble manages to throw both guys off at once, staggering back a few steps and reaching inside his shirt.

"Cops!" Daryl screams at me as he and Carl start forward again. "Bells, call the cops!"

What's he doing? Can't he see?

"No!" I scream, making everyone flinch and quite a few cover their eardrums.

Forgetting every rule I've set myself about blending in I leap forward, intent on getting in front of Carl and Daryl even as I see the gun emerge from Trouble's shirt and start to wonder if I'm impervious to bullets.

They've seen it too but there's no way they're going to get out of the way in time.

Maybe it's not loaded.

There's a metallic click and I can hear the bullet boring down the barrel and then cutting through the air. Even over the retort.

I fling myself across the gap, stretching my hand out as far as it will go.

But even I'm not fast enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 9 Stalkerella**

**BPOV**

The added horror of Daryl dying was the fact that even as I cradled his head in my lap I wanted to suck him dry, like a soda on a hot day.

Never mind that despite my super powers I couldn't save him. I wanted to finish him off in the worst possible way.

I haven't even tried to think of a word for what that makes me. I doubt there is one.

Escaping was at once simple and complex. I only needed to be out of sight to run, but there were so many people, screaming, crying, dialling 911 and noisily trying to work out what the hell had happened. After an agonisingly long time, to me, I spotted a gap in the crowd and took it, leaving Daryl's body on the sidewalk. Once again fortune favoured the monster.

Fuego's wasn't the last job I had. But it was the last one where I kidded myself I was going to have a normal life.

I know better now.

It took me a while longer to learn my lesson completely. But learn I did.

I worked at Curly's, a diner, for two weeks before I slipped up and killed someone. Not a customer, but close enough.

Every time I tried again _something _happened to prove it wasn't a good idea.

Until finally even I had to accept it. I couldn't live like a normal person. I _wasn't _a normal person.

But I couldn't go back to being little more than an animal. Selfishly I couldn't face the loneliness. So help me I'd rather commit the odd murder than be that alone again.

I still work from time to time. When I need money for something. But not because it's a basis for building a life. I'm dead.

I know because it finally occurred to me to check.

I googled myself. Bella Swan.

I died over two years ago. Near Forks. I crashed my truck, or someone ran me off the road. But they never found my body.

BECAUSE I'M STILL TRAPPED IN IT!

…..

Eventually I got over that shock, like all the others. There doesn't seem to be a limit to what you can cope with if you have to.

I never called Charlie again, or tried to find my mom. They think I'm dead and considering what I am now they're probably better off that way.

Sometimes I think of myself as Dr Bruce Banner, wandering from town to town, briefly getting involved in people's lives and then leaving again before anything can come of it. Except when I get mad someone tends to die as opposed to me turning green and all my clothes falling off.

I've had all manner of jobs. Cleaner, fruit picker, shit shoveller, kitchen porter, general labourer, dispatcher, coat check girl, events steward, the list goes on.

The outdoor ones are definitely the best.

But I don't even try to hide my awkwardness anymore, actively discouraging people from wanting anything to do with me, because I'm dangerous.

Wherever I am and whatever I'm doing I always leave at the first sign of trouble. People's troubles, no matter how petty, can quickly turn to disasters when I'm around. Bella Swan. Reluctant harbinger of death.

I carry a pocket mirror with me at all times now. Obsessively checking the color of my eyes. I can't feel them change but change they do. And the darker they get, the more likely I am to be about to knock another dent in my battered soul. And when I do they get suffused with red again, like they were before, except the flecks are darker now, less obvious, less demonic. I'm not sure how I can get any less demonic as time goes on but I'm grateful for small mercies.

I'm seeing the world. Well, the continental US anyway.

Instead of trying to live with people I've settled for watching them. Listening to them. Very, very occasionally I find that I can't help but interfere. Nothing that reveals my existence, just little things that I can do because I know things they don't. It's hardly atonement, or panties over the tights stuff, but it does help me feel better. Still I'm a deadly stalker, who, if you are very lucky, will get a sop to her loneliness before moving on to another victim. If you're unlucky the consequences can be so much worse.

I slip up less and less often because I'm getting better at monitoring my medicinal needs and better at resisting the occasional trigger that would previously have sent me into a feeding frenzy. I've had the practise, random strangers, Tel, Daryl but my 'breakthrough' is too little too late and I won't back down on my decision, my desire to be happy has come at too high a price already. I'm coming to accept that accidents will happen from time to time, but I choose to minimise the risks. As before it doesn't give me any sense of satisfaction, and I can't help feeling cheated that it doesn't, all the books I devoured, devour now, they all seem to suggest that acts of selflessness will earn you a reward. Where's mine?

Really there's no end to my monstrousness.

I've grown accustomed to my nomadic existence now. I had fun making up new names for myself but eventually I got bored and went back to Bella. I still have my trusty laptop, although the last time I got it repaired the guy in the store said it's practically an antique now, I suppose I'll have to get a new one eventually. I've got five iPods, when you don't sleep you get through an awful lot of music and because it isn't practical to lug thousands of books around with me I've got an e-book reader. My new best friend.

I have an online persona. You'll find her on the social networking sites, lurking around on music forums and reading fan fiction. You might even like her, she can be witty and acerbic. I guess it means I have a few friends in the world. Though I don't like to admit it, those interactions are important to me. I can relax and be me for a while, without risking anything.

I spend countless hours wandering the streets, browsing in shopping malls, I go to rallies of all kinds, and I've taken a few adult education classes. I make a mean raffia basket. If I'm in a place with a college I spend a lot of time there, slipping in and out unnoticed in the sea of students, pretending I belong. I even go to parties sometimes but I have to be careful. Give a guy enough drink to dim his natural fear of whatever I am and all of a sudden I'm like catnip. Not that I'm ever in any danger, and the attention is nice in its way but it always ends in a hasty exit. I even had a guy chip a tooth on me once we he lunged in to steal a drunken kiss.

But apart from drunks at parties I'm like an unobservable entity. Unless I'm hiding people seem to know I'm there, they don't bump into me in corridors, they speak to me if they need to, they notice me if I make them but mostly their eyes just slide over me like I don't exist. Sometimes I feel like I could strip naked and dance in the sunlight and still no one would notice me. At night I tend to be invisible by design, giving myself over to what I'm coming to accept now is my natural state of being, flitting through the shadows at a speed the human eye can't follow. Stalkerella.

...

Today I'm working because I've decided I want a car. Nothing exciting, maybe something solid like the truck I remember. I realise I don't need one, I can travel quicker on foot, and it will probably mean I'll have to work more often to pay for gas and parts. But I want one. I'll feel more normal if I arrive somewhere new in a car, no matter how crappy it is.

Yes. I realise I haven't completely given up on normal but unless my driving is much worse than I remember how dangerous can car ownership be?

This job is a bonus, steward at an annual rock festival and as long as I keep an eye on the weather and stay out of the sun it should actually be a good weekend. Right now there are light grey clouds as far as the eye can see in every direction.

Steward isn't as exotic as it sounds in this case. They've given me an orange vest and a pointy stick for picking up trash. The pointy stick came with a health and safety lecture more appropriate to a Bowie knife. How not to stick yourself, or the paying customer, with said pointy stick. And as there's always one, I couldn't resist trying it out on my hand, which has already got me branded as trouble maker for the weekend. If only they knew.

Able to work without any effort at concentrating I stroll through the crowds, savouring the atmosphere and listening in. Stab, stab, stab. Deposit in trash can. And repeat.

After a couple of hours the supervisor finds me diligently working away without obvious self-impalement and promotes me to emptying trash cans, ceremonially taking away my pointy stick and giving me a little cart instead. The boy she's demoted looks like he wants to kill me as he wanders away. Good luck with that buddy.

I think he got the best deal, my new job requires more effort.

As the sun starts to set my shift is over and relieved I shed my orange vest and get down to the serious business of mingling with the crowds. As usual there are a broad spectrum of people here. Serious fans of the bands, semi-professional festival goers, reluctant plus ones who's other halves or friends have dragged them here. They're dancing, eating, drinking and making out behind anything even remotely solid.

Sex is everywhere it seems and when I smell it I head in the other direction, embarrassed, I'm a stalker, not a dogger. Besides on some levels it makes me jealous. Not the casual sex part, and there's a lot of that goes on, the closeness of two people in love, lust, whatever. I'm a virgin but in some indistinct way I'd hope not to be when I'm old and grey. I've no idea how that's going to happen, it's some way down the line after car ownership.

After a while I find a grassy hill overlooking the center stage but too far away to be able to see. Not a problem to me and with a contented sigh I settle down to watch, leaning up against a convenient tree.

There's very little to thrill me in my current condition because I haven't, despite my tentative efforts, been able to find anything remotely dangerous to indulge in. But it dawns on me now I could have other options. I could streak across the stage for example, it's not like anyone would see me if I ran flat out.

Nah. But maybe I would if there was someone here to dare me.

I clamp down on that line of thought. The music is good and the crowd are giving off a happy vibe. I'm going to relax and enjoy it.

The little hill is the perfect vantage point. The breeze is blowing my way, carrying the scents and conversations from down below. The greasy burger smell is getting a bit much but what can you do? The funny thing with the aroma of food that is for the most part it's disgusting to me, but every once in a while, like an echo of who I was before, I'll smell something and virtually start drooling. It's usually junk food. In the early days I used to try to eat if I could get my hands on it, with unpleasant results. Now I just savour it while it lasts.

I should probably hunt in a bit, I've got work tomorrow. I'll stay for one more set then go.

An amorous couple stumble up the incline, spot me, then stumble away again. Giggling.

Like a meerkat I pop up, sniffing the air.

There's an odd scent here.

Sweet. Human. Bloodless. Similar to mine.

What _is _that?

Where is it?

Holy shit it's moving!

Like a child after the Pied Piper I surge to my feet, drawn by my nose.

What _is_ that?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 10 Oncoming Train?**

**BPOV**

I flit through the crowd, following the scent, moving faster and faster until I have to stop and take a deep breath to steady myself.

Slowly Bella. Use your 'people' speed.

I set off in pursuit again.

What is it?

I can't tell if it's male or female. Hell it could be a cup cake for all I know. But it smells so familiar.

It's getting stronger, I must be getting closer, but it's still moving through the crowd. There's another scent moving with it, a man, I'm going to feel ridiculous when I rush up to some random guy eating a cup cake and demand a sniff.

It's stopped moving and I'm practically on top of it when caution sets in.

I don't know what it is, it's not like anything I've ever smelt before, the only thing I know is that it's close to the way I smell. What does that mean?

Think Bella!

I pretend to scan the menu of the food stand I'm in front of while my eyes rake over the crowd.

The conclusion is almost obvious and it strikes me that I must be incredibly dumb not to have considered it properly before. What if there are other people out there like me?

The idea sends a thought trail racing off, practically fizzing with excitement but the one I'm focussing on is a more wary one.

I'm a monster. If there is someone here like me then they're a monster too. What if they're a worse monster? Or a type of monster that preys on my type of monster? What if it's like Highlander and we're supposed to kill each other off until there's only one monster left . . . .

For a moment I think I'm going to have a panic attack but then my brain reminds me that I've no such luxury and directs my attention to the happier thought process, like a teacher pointing emphatically at the naughty corner.

Alternatively they might be as normal as its possible to be in our condition. What if they could explain things to me? Help me? Or change me back to the way I was? What if they could simply just be a friend, someone I can be myself with?

As my thought process concludes I locate the source of the scent. A few feet away are a man and a woman holding hands, their backs to me as they watch the main stage. I'm grateful that the wind is blowing toward me, I can smell her but she probably can't smell me. And it is a her, the man is completely normal with blood coursing round his veins and a heart beating steadily in his chest. They aren't talking but from time to time he will look down at her and smile warmly.

Does she take her medicine from people, is that why she's with him? Or are they dating, is that even possible? Or is she not really the same as me, what if I'm the only monster with the sore throat and specific medicinal requirements, what if she craves plant sap and suffers from backache or something instead?

_Fuck_. So many questions.

She's taller than me, much, with long straight blonde hair. I can't see her properly at this angle but the skin of her hands looks pale, like mine, with that peculiar diamond like quality that suggests it would sparkle in the sunlight. This close I can also tell for definite that like mine, her body is silent and apparently dead. She's breathing in and out though, just like I do, I can hear it. And she's moving at people speed.

The man, tall and dark, handsome, leans down to ask her a question.

"Have you seen them before?"

"No. I have all their albums though and I've always wanted to. Thank you for bringing me Dale." Her voice is musical and lilting with a faint echo of bells, just like mine.

Dale smiles happily and squeezes her hand.

Does she feel hard and cold like me, doesn't he mind, or hasn't he noticed? Maybe he knows . . . .

I watch them obsessively, ignoring the rest of the crowd swirling around me.

"Are you ready to get something to eat?" Dale asks solicitously.

"No thank you." She demurs. "I'm on a special diet at the moment and I'm not hungry. I do need a comfort break though, if you don't mind."

"Of course. I'll come with you."

She giggles, almost coquettishly. "It's only twenty feet away. I'll be fine. Wait here."

He nods and she turns away from him swinging her hips as she glides over to the 'comfort camp'.

Without hesitating I follow at a safe distance, losing sight of her as she slips into the milling throng. Not that matters. I easily follow her scent, past the porta potties and around the back of the food stalls.

Up ahead I see her effortlessly leap the security fence and lope away into the trees.

Cautiously I follow.

Running as silently as I can. Stalkerella with a slightly different quarry. Just how different I've no idea. I don't know why she left so suddenly, unless of course she knew I was there . . . .

I stop running and slow to a walk. Maybe following her isn't the right thing to do. It could be a trap. Alternatively she could be as frightened as I am, perhaps she's all alone too. If that's the case it would be tragic to let this opportunity go to waste. On the other hand, unless she's much slower than me, she wasn't exactly running flat out . . . .

Argh! Damn it!

What have I got to lose? The worst thing that can happen is that I end up dead, right? It's not a very appealing prospect, if I'm honest, it will probably hurt.

Even at a walk I'm gaining on her, she must have stopped.

_Ooh_. What to do, what to do?

And then it's too late. She's stood stock still in the center of a circle of trees, watching me, very clearly waiting for me.

I manage to take another couple of steps and then I grind to a halt. My brain so active there's probably steam coming out of my ears.

She's beautiful. Tall, willowy and blonde, skin of the palest white and eyes of burnished gold. Casually dressed but in clothes that scream expense and quality. Everything about her is smooth and polished, sophisticated. And she's smiling.

"Hello. I thought I smelt you in there. I hope I haven't encroached on your territory, I wasn't hunting." For some reason she points to her left eye as she says this. "Just having a bit of fun. I thought we should speak away from the humans, you know, just in case."

And her smile gets even warmer.

I feel my brow crease and I can just imagine the idiotic frown I'm wearing. Obviously she expects me to know what she's talking about. Humans?

Her smile slips a little.

"I wasn't on your territory was I?" She asks, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry if I was. It wasn't marked, so I thought. Well I thought it would be okay."

"Um. I was working." And I wave the orange vest still clutched in my left hand by way of explanation.

"Orange isn't a good color for us." She laughs. "Makes us look like we're burning in the fires of hell."

Nervously I titter in response.

"If we're good and you don't mind, I'll head back to my date. I'm Kate by the way." She extends her hand and cautiously I close the gap to shake it.

She feels the same temperature as me and not remotely fragile. Normal.

"Bella. Um. Date?"

"I know." She chuckles, releasing my hand. "It's not as kinky as it sounds. I'm a vegetarian like you. I just prefer human men to our own kind. Not that I'm peculiar about it. A girl has to get her kicks where she can."

"Um." Brilliant. Way to make a good impression Bella. Words are failing me though. She's so . . . . so _normal_.

She peers at me curiously. "Are you okay? You look a little traumatized."

I can't help it. I laugh. Hysterical laughter of the kind that would normally result in chronic hiccups or hyperventilating.

She puts her hand out to pound me on the back, a very human gesture, but automatically I flinch away from the unexpected contact. The laughter dying on my lips like a faucet's been turned off.

"There's no need to be afraid." She says gently, tilting her head to one side like a bird. "I'm very friendly."

I nod slowly.

"And you don't need to pretend to be human around me." She says, switching to speaking and moving at a rate that matches my own abnormal default. "It's safe to be what we are when there's no one else around."

"I _am_ human." I blurt out.

She considers me for a moment.

"We're house sitting near hear." She sounds like we're in the middle of a perfectly natural conversation. "For some friends, well, family really. Are you living rough? Would you like to come back for a shower or just to relax on a nice comfy couch?"

Friends? Family? She has a family? Does that mean I could have a family one day? A house, they live in a house?

"We're all friendly, I promise."

When my stupid brain once again lets me down she carries on as if nothing untoward has happened.

"It's nice to meet another vegetarian."

"Um." I'm hardly that. I take my medicine from virtually anything with a heartbeat. Not rats though, their tails make my skin crawl, or birds, scaly dinosaur legs . . . .

This time a lengthy silence ensues during which her expression softens and I start to feel even more awkward.

"Would you like to come back and meet the others? We're all the same as you, if that helps."

"The same?" I ask in quiet, small, voice.

"Yes."

"I don't . . . ."

Another silence.

"You don't know what you are, do you?" She asks eventually, her voice flooded with sympathy.

Deciding to take the honest approach I shake my head.

"Oh my god." She takes my hand and this time I don't flinch away. "Do you know how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"How long have you been twenty?"

"About three months."

"Sorry Bella." She laughs softly. "I'm going too fast. How long have you been like _this_?"

"Three years."

"And you've never met anyone else like us?"

I shake my head again.

"And you're a vegetarian?" She sounds impressed.

"Um no. I eat animals." Might as well admit it.

"Then you're a vegetarian. That's why your eyes are gold, like mine. If you ate people your eyes would be dark red."

Oh. That explains a lot.

"Why do they go black?" I ask impulsively.

"If we get too thirsty, if we're angry or afraid, or if we're horny, usually." Gently she tugs me forward. "Come and meet my brother Eleazar, he's like a walking encyclopaedia on the subject, he can tell you everything you need to know about what we are."

"What are we?"

"We're vampires Bella." She answers, with _no_ hint of irony whatsoever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 11 Or Light at the End of the Tunnel?**

**BPOV**

"It isn't far." She murmurs as I digest that little nugget of information.

In some ways it's not a complete shock, after all I do drink blood. But nevertheless. A _vampire_? I don't turn into a bat, I'm frightened of bats, I haven't got any fangs and _vampires_ don't exist . . . .

My silence doesn't appear to bother her and she talks on, successfully distracting me from my cowardly desire to run away.

"I should probably explain who we all are before we get home. There are five of us in our coven. Vampires that live together tend to call themselves covens, although most of us are basically nomadic, like you. We're actually more of a family than a coven, Carlisle and Eleazar believe that vegetarianism is a civilising influence which allows us to live more like humans and less like savages."

Savages? My steps falter and she looks at me in concern before realising what she's said.

Then she laughs.

"Sorry, I've never had to explain all this from scratch before. I'll stick to the pertinent facts and let Eleazar tell you all the rest. You can ask questions though, whenever you want."

I nod.

"Anyway. There are five of us. Tanya, my sister, who is head of the family, our coven leader if you will. Irina, my younger sister. And Eleazar and Carmen, his mate, who joined us later. My sisters and I, we're what you might call Cougars.

The Cullens are close friends of ours, like cousins. Carlisle and Tanya have known each other a long time. Carlisle's mate is Esme, born to be a mother I think, and they have five 'children'. Well, three now. Rosalie and Emmett, who are mates, and Jasper."

I nod again. I've got questions alright. The trouble is I have no idea where to start.

"We're house sitting for them at the moment. Esme renovated the house ready for them to move here and then with one thing and another they decided they needed a vacation, they have an island off South America, and she didn't want to leave this house empty once it was finished so we came down from Denali for a month or two to keep an eye on it.

We love living in Alaska and don't tend to move our permanent residence as much as the Cullens but it is nice to stay in a new place for a while."

She stops, peering at me again.

"Too much information?"

I fake a smile.

"Sorry, trying to think what you need to know."

"It's probably a shorter list to work out what I don't need to know." I huff.

"Aha! A sense of humour. Excellent, we shall get along famously. My family are lovely but somewhat challenged when it comes to satirical wit."

Okay.

"Anyway you should probably know who is at home and who is not, that will make things easier.

As I said the house belongs to the Cullens, it's very _chic_, you'll see. Carlisle, Esme, Rose and Em are in South America for another month and Jasper is, well, he's _away_, I'll explain about him later.

Tanya's gone with them, she needed a break too. And Irina's trying her hand at monogamy. I can't see it lasting but you never know. She's in Europe with Laurent, a French vampire we met a couple of months back.

So it's just me, Carmen and Eleazar at home. Nothing overwhelming."

If you say so, I on the other hand, will reserve judgement on that.

"Won't the Cullens mind me being in their house?"

"Good god no!" Kate throws her head back and laughs. "Esme would be all over you like a cheap suit. Like I said, the mothering instinct is strong in that one and I'll be honest Bella, you look like you need a little mothering."

A heavy sigh escapes me and glancing across I catch Kate fighting back a smile.

On one level it's a relief to discover that I'm not unique in all this weirdness. On another I can't help wondering whether going from all alone in the world to meeting the Brady Bunch constitutes running before I can walk. I don't remember ever being a particularly sociable person, just relentless snapshots of my general awkwardness and discomfort around people I know, never mind ones I haven't met before.

I'll just have to woman up if I want a chance to ask my questions.

A stranger is a friend you haven't met yet. I grab onto that little homily with both hands.

To my horror there's a welcoming party on the front steps as we make our way up the drive. A dark haired man and woman, with pale skin and gold eyes. Like Kate, unnaturally beautiful and dressed with understated expense. Carmen and Eleazar I presume.

They are smiling happily and that would relax me, if their eyes weren't raking over me like a prize pig at a show.

Once again my stupid brain lets me down and I slow, keeping hold of Kate's hand so she has to slow with me.

"It's okay." She murmurs quietly. "Carmen and Eleazar are absolutely the best way to be introduced to the world of vampire, they're the gentlest people I know."

As we get closer a peculiar expression crosses the man's face.

"A gift!" He exclaims, hurrying forward excitedly.

Immediately the image of a perfect cube, pink, wrapped with cream ribbon and topped with a bow springs to mind. Nevertheless I duck behind Kate.

"No. Sorry. I didn't know I was coming, otherwise I would have . . . ." I stammer.

"Eleazar." Kate huffs good naturedly, flapping her hands at him. "Down boy. We have some issues here, we can deal with your mad scientist tendencies later."

The dark haired woman, _vampire_, catches his elbow and draws him gently back.

"Sorry Bella." Kate laughs. "He means well, he's just a little bit obsessive about gifts."

She turns back to them.

"Bella doesn't even know what a vampire is, never mind anything about gifts. Can we _please_ take it easy and not freak her out in the first five minutes?"

Great. Now they're staring at me. Is this some sort of tradition that you have to give every new vampire you meet a gift, does it have to be something specific or can it be like an iPod or a flower or something?

"Señorita, Bella." Eleazar gushes, held in place by the dark haired woman who is smiling apologetically. "I am so sorry. I did not realise. How incredibly rude of me. Please say you will forgive me?"

"Um." I squirm, twirling the toe of my sneaker into the gravel in a way I recognise from my previous life.

"Eleazar." The dark haired woman chides him. "Please, darling, you've overwhelming the poor girl. Why don't you go upstairs and prepare one of the guest rooms for her?"

And just like that he flits away.

"Thanks Carmen." Kate giggles.

"No problem." Carmen answers with a wink. "Is it true Bella? You don't know what you are? I can scarcely believe it, you cannot be a newborn, your eyes."

And again with the pointlessly overactive brain not coming up with any appropriate words.

"It must have been so hard for you." Carmen sighs, like Kate apparently unperturbed by my woefully inadequate social skills. "I do hope we will be able to help you, so lucky it was Kate that found you."

Her words send a shiver down my spine. I'm getting the impression there might be more to this new reality of mine than happy families. But before I can chase that down I'm off on another train of thought . . . .

"Don't worry Bella." Kate says, leading me into the house. "We will tell you everything you need to know and answer every question you have. As vampires we've got nothing but time."

…..

The rest of our conversation was entirely as expected for a group of people welcoming a complete stranger into their home. Except nobody mentioned where the little girl's room was or bothered to explain the mechanics of the kitchen.

They left me to explore my new room. Six point seven seconds. And take a shower. Considerably longer.

I did think about escaping through the window, but only briefly.

When I emerged from the bathroom there were clean clothes laid out on the bed. Designer jeans, the softest sweater I've ever felt and a bewildering array of what, in some cases, I assumed to be underwear.

I'm still such a kid in many ways.

In the spirit of experimentation I tried on most of the underwear, twirling in front of the mirror, before selecting a set closest to what I'm used to.

Then, in true Stalkerella style, I kneel down on the floor and press my ear against the richly colored wooden boards. Not sure what I'm expecting to hear but compelled to find out.

"Honestly." Kate's whispering, I can tell. "She was working as a steward and she had absolutely no idea she's a vampire . . . ."

"I cannot accept that Kate." Eleazar interrupts quietly. "She clearly has good control and she has found vegetarianism, those things are in no way within the realms of possibility for a newborn. At least not without help."

"She isn't a newborn." Kate fires back. "She's three years old."

"Eleazar, Kate." Carmen's voice is calm and sensible. "Whatever the specifics she is clearly in need of both our help and some answers. And I for one would very much like to know what kind of monster would do that to a child. She was clearly not much more than eighteen when she was changed . . . ."

"Seventeen." Kate corrects.

"To be left like that. She must have been so afraid . . . ."

Yes. Yes I was. Suddenly remembering that eavesdropping is actually rude I get to my feet and head for the door finding them easily in a study absolutely crammed with books. I love my e-book reader but I've really missed _books_ . . . .

"There you are." Kate greets me brightly. "Nice shower?"

"Wonderful." I respond with real feeling. "Thank you to whomever, for the clothes, I have my own but . . . ."

"It's quite alright." Carmen assures me. "I though you and I would be about the same size although I must say that sweater looks much better on you than it did on me."

"You wore it _once_." Eleazar chuckles and I sense an old, shared, joke.

"And I did not fill it to my satisfaction, as you very well know."

Cue non blush.

"Come Bella. Sit down." Eleazar urges. "I am sure you have lots of questions and Kate tells me I have a lot to explain."

I settle myself into a club chair and make a conscious effort to relax.

"I hope you will indulge me." He continues, folding himself gracefully into the chair opposite. "I am a nosey old man and I have lots of questions of my own. To learn about our kind is a great privilege."

"Um. Okay." Nervously my eyes dart to Kate's but she smiles reassuringly and then rolls her eyes at her brother.

I suppose I shouldn't feel offended that they're surprised by me and want answers of their own. I have no idea what a vampire really is let alone what one's life is supposed to be like. Based on experience it really wouldn't surprise me to discover that I'm strange even for a _vampire_ . . . .

_Vampire_. I really can't get my head around that . . . .

Kate and Carmen both take a seat on the large red leather couch. It doesn't look very comfortable but I know that a pile of rubble can feel like pillows when you seem to be made out of stone.

I can't help feeling a bit like I'm about to be interrogated. Nervous, like I'm about to fail some kind of pop quiz I didn't know I was going to get and haven't revised for . . . .

Can vampires be rejected if they don't make the grade? How would you grade a vampire?

"Bella." Eleazar's voice gently tugs me out of my mind spiral. "It will be alright my child. This can be a happy life. _We_ are all happy. But it is perfectly okay to take time to adjust. To want answers. To wage an internal war on your circumstances. And to find your own path."

Taking a deep breath I order my brain to relax me. With a modicum of success.

"We should start at the very beginning. How a vampire is made . . . ."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 12 Vampire 101**

**BPOV**

Unable to stay still any longer I surge to me feet and rush outside.

Taking a deep breath to steady me.

So much. So fucking much to assimilate. So much that will never again be how I imagined it.

I can't . . . .

I can't fucking . . . .

How the fuck am I supposed to deal with any of this?

Ah cursing. The last bastion of the intellectually challenged, according to polite society. But what the fuck do they know?

Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck. Fucking fuck fuck.

There are worse words I know, but I can't bring myself to use them, not even in my head. Not yet anyway. Give me about ten minutes . . . .

Fuck!

Kate joins me on the porch.

"Okay?"

I snort.

"I suppose not." She sighs. "I really am sorry. This life can be hard, but I can't imagine . . . . not to know . . . ."

I flip my hand up, palm out, to indicate that I don't want to hear whatever she is about to say. For the first time in my life _absolutely_ not caring whether or not I've offended anyone.

She sighs again.

"I suppose you need some time to process all of this?"

Another snort.

The sun's coming up. There aren't any clouds in view yet. Going to be a day to stay out of sight. Out of sight of _humans_. A genus of which I am no longer a part, apparently . . . .

Oh fucking twatting, holy butt shitting, ass reaming, tit wanking, motherfucking cu . . . . No, maybe later.

Did I mention I was a complete novice when it comes to cursing?

"Please, Bella." She lays her hand lightly on my arm. "Promise me you won't just leave. I know it's an awful lot to digest and deal with. But at least promise you'll talk to me before you go. We _really_ can help you and we _really_ want to."

I nod.

Then I wheel away and run for the forest.

Running flat out to temporarily still my brain.

Yep. Temporary.

On the top of the nearest mountain I hunker down and rake my gaze over the landscape.

Pretty.

Pretty fucking immaterial.

I'm 'dead'. Actually dead. And it was kind of funny that they really didn't have a proper word for what we're doing existing here if we're dead. It just got glossed over, repeatedly. Accident or design?

Starting at the beginning.

Another vampire, we're venomous, contagious, needed to have bitten me to make me one.

Marty Crabbins. Eighth Grade. Little pisher. Took a lump out of my upper arm. There used to be a scar . . . .

No. Becoming what we are only takes three to five days.

Charlie collected me from the airport. He gave me a truck. I really wanted to take it out for a test drive.

Argh!

Someone bit me?

Surely I'd remember some random person coming up to me and trying to take a bite out of me? Even I was never weird enough to find that normal.

But there's so much else . . . .

How many people, animals, have I bitten into? Are there killer squirrels in British Columbia? Corpses meandering and murdering across the US? I mean, I thought I knew what dead was. But apparently I wasn't dead. If a vampire did that to me, then surely, without _knowing_, I could have done this to someone else?

Eleazar says not. It's impossible to screw up that badly and animals won't be changed.

But Jesus Christ. What if?

And excuse me. But if it's so hard to do why the hell am I a vampire?

Who did this to me? And why didn't they help me?

Vampire 101 is the first commandment apparently. We even have our own police force or whatever it is, The Volturi. The number one rule? Do not reveal our existence. Newborn vampires are usually so prone to breaking it that their sires. Now there's a word that feels wrong on so many levels, I am NOT a horse. Their _sire _stays with them, at least, until they're past that period. To educate and guide them. Re-enforce and uphold the rule. Protect them.

Peachy. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Eleazar knew of an occasion when the Sire was killed before the new vampire regained consciousness, but it didn't resonate in any way with me. Blank. Nada.

And that's another thing.

My memories are abnormal. Especially without someone to prompt them. New vampires forget everything about who and what they were if those memories aren't carefully cherished. I might not remember how I was bitten, or how I came to _change_ but I remember an apparently abnormal amount about what I was before.

Eleazar thinks this may well have enabled me to cope.

He and I seem to have very different ideas on what coping is.

Alright, I sigh mentally, park the how.

Venom is quite the curative apparently, you can be all kinds of almost dead and still wake up a vampire. Along with generally enhancing you, I'm not convinced being made of marble is all that much of an enhancement, venom will also mend broken bones, cancer, failing hearts, pretty much anything including fatal gunshot wounds.

My sorrow over Daryl's death has been queuing for attention in my stupid brain ever since Eleazar told me that. I could have saved him. I could have carried him away and bitten him. Made him like me. And on that I'm conflicted. If whatever, we shall call them asshole for the time being, asshole did this to me had stuck around long enough to explain the basics I could have tried to save Daryl. From what Eleazar said it isn't that easy, many a potential vampire ends up drained and dead because the _sire_ can't control their thirst and gets carried away. Something I could easily imagine myself having done. But if I'd known I could have _tried_. Which brings me to my conflict. Should I have done? Would it be right to make someone like me for any reason but in particular because I was lonely and I liked them?

At the moment my answer is an automatic and emphatic no. I have not exactly been having the time of my non-life. But I can sense, maybe, somewhere in the future that way of looking at it might change. Maybe. The Denalis, their existence might ultimately have something to do with that, with a different start in this life maybe I would be more accepting and maybe I can still learn to be that way. Maybe I could be happy, like they are . . . .

That thought process is too vague and ephemeral right now so I close it off, perhaps to get it going again later so I can explore the 'dream'.

On the subject of making someone like me, who didn't know the facts and hadn't chosen it, I don't think my mind will ever change. That's just . . . . _evil._

There were of course many things I already knew but now understand.

Drinks blood to survive. Sparkles in the sun. Ludicrously strong and fast. Basically scary to humans but also 'enhanced' to be fatally attractive to them when you put your mind to it. Suped up brain that can handle multiple things at once in a way you couldn't possibly describe to someone who hadn't experienced it. No need to sleep, not physically anyway.

But there was other stuff that knocked me for six and generally brought on my brief internal flirtation with Tourette's.

I'm going to be like this forever. Unless another vampire, the only thing strong enough, dismembers me and cremates the parts in a fire. Which is something to look forward to, not . . . .

I don't mean for the rest of my life. I mean FOREVER.

I won't age. I won't get wrinkly. I won't get infirm. My muscles will never go slack, I'll never put on weight, I'll never get grey hair or aching bones. I'll never _ever_ get sick.

Because I'm dead already.

And because I'm dead already, converted to stone, my biology as I understand it _ceased_, my body won't change. Great news if you're vain. Except it means I can't get pregnant, grow a child inside me. Ever.

To anyone who knew me well enough as a teenager . . . .

Which I technically still am. Forever seventeen . . . .

If I'm honest it would only be my mom who ever _knew_ me.

She would find the fact that not being able to have children upset me as frankly rather strange. I was vocal and, I realise now, insensitive in my protestations that I should never have children because I was crap at looking after anything but mainly because relationships don't last and children need two parents.

Oh god, _mom_, I'm a vampire . . . .

Seeking a distraction I set off on the hunt I postponed last night, scything my way through the local wildlife. I can see why the Cullens would have picked this as a home.

Afterwards I bask in the temporary almost calm.

Eleazar explained the violent and sudden mood swings, the building pressure from a never rested mind. And he explained the palliative effects of physical sensations. Hunting, feeding, running, destroying stuff and sex. Lots of sex.

Great. The rest of the world will pair off, procreate, die, and I'll go on, forever seventeen and obsessed with sex.

There's an irony in there somewhere . . . .

The forever part. I really _really_ can't get my stupid head around it. Its just so . . . . Big.

Kate doesn't know exactly how old she was when Sasha, her mother / sire changed her, probably about nineteen or twenty but the news she's been a vampire for a thousand years was almost impossible to digest. Eleazar and Carmen have about six hundred years between them. It's unimaginable.

None of them started out as vegetarians. They all began by following the basic diet of _humans_ and it was quite some time before they developed consciences and started looking to live another way. Being 'born' with one makes me unusual but not unique apparently. Carlisle Cullen, the leader of the other family, knew what he had become, vampires weren't such a well-kept secret a few hundred years ago apparently, and made a decision not to feed on humans at the outset, but it was an accident that he discovered he could feed on animals, when he'd gotten so thirsty he went for a herd of deer.

I bet the deer were pleased . . . .

He works as a doctor. A doctor and sometimes a surgeon. In a proper people hospital. His control must be phenomenal. But it's another thing that gives me hope. He moves around for his work, he has to because he doesn't age and eventually people notice, and the younger ones in the family go to school and college, proper people school and college. _Normal_.

As I get 'older' and less inclined to be monstrous maybe I could have a life like that. Like I wished for in the early days. It might _actually_ be possible. Eleazar has even offered to introduce me to the contacts the families use for all the identities and paperwork the lifestyle needs.

And forever is an optimum amount of time to watch your investments prosper. Kate and her sisters are so rich they make Bill Gates look cheap. I used to buy some of my clothes at a chain they own.

Gifts is where I went into information overload. Not pink and not wrapped with bows.

It's not enough for us to be the permanently walking dead, with supernatural speed, strength and senses. No, some of us get to be extra special as well.

Kate can give you an electric shock through her skin that will either stand your hair on end or knock you flat on your back. Vampires can read your mind, sense and affect your emotions, anesthetize you, fill you with crippling pain, see the future, manipulate the elements and track their pray to the ends of the earth.

Eleazar is something of an expert at gifts. His is to be able to sense them in others. And when he tried to suggest that I had one we went over the boundary of what I'm currently able to cope with.

Who knows why that was the tipping point, I don't.

I sigh heavily, shifting a drained carcass off my lap and onto the springy grass.

I peer up into the sky.

About ten I reckon.

Which just depresses me even more. All that information to process and I've done it as well as I can for now in a couple of hours. That just brings home exactly how different everything is going to be from here on in. I'm mentally wrung out and I still have a whole day to get through.

No wonder some of us go mad and end up being executed by The Volturi.

Mechanically I tidy up the detritus of my hunt. I already know I'm going back to the house, despite everything I'm not ready to be alone again.

Kate is waiting for me on the edge of the yard.

"Okay?" She asks.

"Um."

"Yeah, I suppose um about covers it at this point. How about a diversion?"

With more conviction I nod.

"Shopping?"

Oh, um.

"I don't have any money and I don't really _like_ shopping." Not entirely true, I hate shopping but I have got nearly two thousand dollars in my latest mud hut.

"You don't have to buy anything." Kate laughs. "Just looking is half the fun."

Fun?

I suppose so, if I didn't have a job this weekend I'd have been wandering through the shopping mall people watching anyway, it can only be better with company, right?

"Crap. I'm late for work!" I suddenly realise.

She just raises her perfect eyebrow at me.

Oh. Right. Its not like I'll be using the same ID if I ever want to pick up crap for them again.

How strangely liberating . . . .


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 13 Over the Hedge**

**BPOV**

Fortunately or unfortunately the cloud cover descends and in moments I find myself ushered into a shiny silver Volvo enroute to the mall.

She drives like a maniac, making me flinch a few times until it dawns on me that a) I'm indestructible and b) her reflexes make what she's doing child's play. And then I get distracted by the fact it's the first time I've been in a car for three years . . . .

Abandoning the car in a parking bay Kate drags me into the mall and proceeds to make short work of proving that shopping can be fun. Her looks and manner command attention. And the money she's threatening to spend doesn't hurt either. It's like a scene out of Pretty Woman. I don't even feel embarrassed that I'm not going to buy any of the stuff she's found it so laughably easy to get me to try on or that the poor assistants have run themselves ragged fetching and carrying it.

Thanks to our being able to talk at what I now know to be vampire speed she's been able to keep up a constant stream of chatter and observations throughout the whole thing and although it's not physically possible I fancy that my face aches from smiling so much.

I didn't buy anything, nor even let Kate, despite her credit card and exhortations for me to pay her back later. But I was tempted a time or two. Especially by the little red dress which set off my hair and flowed over my every curve as if the designer had actually measured me first. I don't know who that _woman_ was in the mirror but I wouldn't be sad to grow into her one day.

Done with clothes we retire to the coffee shop, settling into a prime spot for people watching and are carefully leaning back so as not to inhale too much of the scent of frothy coffee. It's got milk in it, and it's not nice. Why don't we just order it black . . . .

"So, I still have loads to tell you about vampires." She starts and I groan, which gets me a sharp look. "Not all the dry text book stuff that Eleazar is so fond of, the real stuff, the _gossip_."

Unsurprisingly this takes several hours, a couple of artfully hidden muffins and several coffees tipped out in the restroom, to get through. Kate has a thousand years of gossip of her own, never mind the stories she's picked up along the way and she's right the Technicolor tales of wars, feuds, coups, love, hate, tragedy and comedy lend flesh to Eleazar's black and white facts. All I needed was a bucket of popcorn and the ability to actually eat it. And so well did she tell the stories I forgot my usual reticence and asked more questions in an afternoon than I probably have in my entire life.

Kate and her sisters, all blonde and stunningly beautiful, are allegedly the source of the succubus legends. Beautiful demons who seduce men, have sex with them, and then kill them. Except they gave up the killing part a long time ago. Not the sex though. I applaud their dedication but I just can't see myself in that role. Don't get me wrong, I'd love not to be a virgin, but it would have to mean something to me, it couldn't be so . . . . So _physical. _Kate finds that hilarious and fully expects my attitude to change, in fact I have a horrible suspicion she sees it as a personal challenge to change it.

I like that. Despite everything they learned about me last night I like that Kate doesn't treat me as a charity case in need of a crutch and a strong guiding hand. At the moment she's making me feel like a new friend and someone she wants to spend time with. Daryl's the only person who's ever done that for me in, well, ever really. I can't fault Carmen and Eleazar in their reaction, their sincere sorrow for what they see as the crime of my appalling and lonely start in this life was like a warm bath, their amazement at how well I've coped, a boost to the self image I was trying to forget I had. But I don't want to be treated as the poor freak Kate found at a rock festival because I don't feel like one. I did what I had to do and although I didn't always succeed, I tried, what more could _anyone_ have done?

The death of her 'mother' saddened me. Executed by the vampire police for creating an immortal child. Turning a kid too young to be taught the basic rules Eleazar has just explained to me. It seems barbaric but then tales of the carnage such children wreaked on humans are enough to make your toes curl.

For something so indestructible there seems to be an awful of lot final death in our history. Just within these two families, I prefer that word to coven I've decided, and only recently.

I can't decide if the story of Edward Cullen and Marie is gloriously romantic or a cautionary tale on engaging brain before opening mouth. Edward was Carlisle's first 'son' dying of influenza when Carlisle found and changed him. Leaving aside my newly discovered feelings on that matter it seems they had a good life as the family grew. Except unlike the others Edward never found someone to love. He finally fell in love with Marie, a human he met at school who sounds a lot like someone I could have identified with. She wanted to be changed but Edward thought our souls were damned and loved her enough to want better for her. Eventually he left for her own good, only to go to The Volturi and beg for death when he mistakenly believed she'd been killed in an accident. Desperate to stop him Marie his sister Alice went to Italy but since Marie knowing about humans was against the cardinal rule they were all executed. They left behind a devastated family and Alice's husband, poor guy.

Kate's warning to take the rules seriously and avoid The Volturi at all costs is one I will take to heart.

"So now you know what you are, have you thought about what you want to do next?" She asks as she aims the car out of the parking garage like a bullet out of a gun.

"I need to get another job." I sigh. "I'm saving for a car."

"How very prosaic." She snorts. "Haven't you thought of anything more exciting?"

"No, not really."

"There's no limit to what you could do, you do realise that don't you?"

"I suppose so, it's just that it's all such a change. I thought I was going to grow old and die. At the moment I just can't get my head around that not happening. As for the rest . . . . "

"Why don't you stay with us for a while?"

"I don't want anyone putting up with me just because they feel sorry for me."

"I suppose I can understand that." She answers thoughtfully. "And I have to admit I do feel sorry for you, I remember what being a newborn was like, the thought of going through that alone frankly scares the crap out of me.

But I also admire you. I don't think I could have done it without turning into a total savage. You're a strong person and I like that quality in a friend."

Cue non blush.

"Please say you'll stay. We've another month here till the others get back, and I can pack a lot of fun into a month trust me, then you can meet Tanya and the Cullens too. Then, if you don't want to come back to Denali with us, and much as I love Alaska it can get a bit dull, at least you'll have two sets of vampires you know."

My stupid brain has disconnected from my vocal chords again.

"Fun Bella. You've earned some fun. Being a vampire can be fantastic, and if I may say so myself I am exactly the person to show you."

It feels a bit shallow to consider abandoning my life so easily but I reason that it's only temporary, a chance to see this life from another perspective, to get to know others like me.

And I would like a little fun. I am, after all, only seventeen. I'm just not sure a thousand year old succubus and little old me are on the same page fun wise . . . .

"Okay." I manage eventually.

"Good. Because I bought you that red dress and I know just the place for you to wear it."

…..

Still feeling in some weird way like a traitor I collect my things from my makeshift camp and move them into the spare room at the Cullens. Nobody in the extended family seemed to mind and it sounded like for the most part they are looking forward to meeting me when they get home, though I've resolved not to hang around too long afterwards. No one wants to outstay their welcome, especially not someone with my lack of social graces.

Carmen and Eleazar were pleased that I'd agreed to stay for a while, but possibly for different reasons. In any case she made him promise not to pester me about my gift until I said I was ready, for which I was extremely grateful.

Nevertheless the learning curve continued. The first time I went hunting with them I nearly ripped Kate's face off, apparently it's instinctual to protect your kill but I was mortified.

Carmen pointed out that while I'd got the blinking and breathing down pat I didn't fidget nearly as much as a human does, I'd never noticed before, and I learnt to scratch, rub my eyes or move my head from time to time. It did seem to make people more relaxed around me although I still appear to fade into the background in a way that Kate and the other's don't, maybe that has something to do with being shy and retiring when I was human.

I soon discovered that I couldn't be around them all the time, I like my space and they are quite happy to leave me up in my room or hanging out in a tree like a vampire bat, with one of the books from Carlisle's study for company. I'm not sure if this is a natural preference of mine, a habit I've learned or because I still have so much to come to terms with.

On the rest of what Kate describes as my education we are currently discovering just how stubborn I can be. Who knew?

Kate wants to take me clubbing to introduce the little red dress to society.

My first objection, I'm too young, was overruled on the grounds that I'm a) too dead to be corrupted and b) unable to drink alcohol anyway.

Then I tried using my shyness and general awkwardness as an excuse. This was no good either. We aren't going to make friends, we're going to dance, have a good time and get laid.

I pointed out that I didn't want to get laid. Fine, she said I could go home at the end of the night and read a book about someone else having great sex instead.

Finally I was forced to admit that I can't dance.

This was independently verified by a very gracious Carmen.

And so, much to my eternal embarrassment, Kate is teaching me to dance and we are going clubbing tomorrow night, whether I like it or not.

Other than that I can say without a doubt that despite not entirely fitting in I am happy, if not exactly having fun in a way that satisfies Kate. So much so that I am viewing the end of this 'vacation' from my life with trepidation

"Bella!" Kate's voice breaks into my thoughts.

"Up here."

In a moment she appears at the bottom of my tree.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Go for it."

"News, I have news. Jasper's coming home."

"Jasper Cullen, the one who's wife was killed?"

"The same, Esme just called me, she's so excited. And he's actually a Whitlock although he and Rosalie usually use the name Hale when they're with the family."

"Is he okay?" I ask, still feeling a little sorry for him based on what she's told me.

"I doubt it." She emits a strangely happy sigh, settling back against the tree trunk and closing her eyes. "Jasper's the archetypal brooding vampire and a very, very naughty boy. Alice was the only one who could ever tame him and that's incredibly sexy."

"Is it?"

"Oh Bella. You wait until you see him. He's absolutely gorgeous. Everybody wants to be the one to comfort Jasper. The strong silent type with the troubled past. Just the kind of man every girl aspires to. Tanya and Irina will be spitting bullets when they find out he's finally coming home and they won't be here."

Poor guy, I'm not sure what's worse, losing your wife or having three succubi vying to help you get over it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 14 I Will Survive**

**JPOV**

I tried to stay with the family I really did.

But it was impossible.

Their grief misery and guilt added to my own was more than I could bear. The shields I'd practised with over the years, to block out emotions I don't want to be influenced by or can't handle, completely unable to cope. Or maybe it was just me that was unable to cope.

Either way the result was the same. I left.

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Despite the regularity and severity of my fuck ups they still didn't want me to go.

Fuck. _I_ didn't want to go.

But the metaphorical pointy finger of blame was following me everywhere I went. Edward's personality free Volvo. His piano, which until he met Marie was his only emotional outlet. Alice's clothes, her magazines, her books. Even after Esme very thoughtfully cleared them out while I was hunting, their ghosts stayed and they haunted me.

I've never been very good at being on my own and my first instinct was to go to Peter and Charlotte. But like everyone else who's ever been associated with me they've already carried their share of the burden. Though I knew they wouldn't turn me away I didn't have it in me to inflict myself on them again. They've cleaned up their share of my messes and ridden enough of the backlash of my rampaging gift to last two life times.

Which left me with . . . . Well it left me with nothing.

I'd been given a chance at a new life by a succession of people and on every occasion I'd thrown it back in their faces. Not deliberately. Just by being me.

Peter and Charlotte, who escaped Maria first and then came back for me, had to deal with my struggles to chain up the monster I'd unleashed under her tender loving care.

My beautiful loving wife had to deal with my bloodlust and often half-hearted attempts to behave like a civilised being.

And her family had to do the same so that they could have her.

I know Carlisle's right when he said my changing and life afterwards shaped what I am and I wanted to believe him when he said I could re-shape myself as I saw fit, if I gave myself time and if I wanted to. And I did. But the old me was very hard to let go of, especially once he'd provided me with an excuse. I didn't make me what I am, circumstance and someone else did. So surely that made it excusable if I reverted to type occasionally? I don't remember if I was a selfish human but I've been one hell of a selfish vampire.

And I've paid for it now.

The trouble is, as ever, a lot of innocent people have paid for it with me.

Being able to say that I don't like myself very much hardly qualifies in any way toward atonement.

And so I'm coming home. Because finally and too late I've realised that I do want to change and that I need others to help me do it. I don't want to pretend I'm a better man. I want to _be_ one.

To be honest I wouldn't blame any of them for spitting venom in my face and turning me away. The fact that I know they won't makes me feel even more unworthy. They'll help me because they care about me and maybe, just maybe, they can help me learn to show that I care about them too.

Oh Alice. Why didn't I realise any of this sooner?

I'd assumed the hero in the Greek tragedy would be Edward, it seemed so _him_ somehow, but he was executed before he had a chance to learn his lessons.

And that just leaves me. Smothered in regrets and struggling to learn how to live with them.

Fucking hell. I'm so needy and pathetic even I feel like giving me a good slap.

Esme was ecstatic when I rang and told her I was coming home. Which made me feel bad. She wanted to cut short their vacation on Isle Esme. Which made me feel worse. Thankfully I managed to talk her out of it. I don't need to feel bad about anything else in my life right now, I'm teetering on the edge of giving up completely and asking Maria to take me back as it is.

Yeah, this whole _remorse_ thing is very difficult to deal with.

I'd like to be able to say I felt the pull to improve right away after Alice's death, but I didn't.

When I left the family I eventually decided to see a bit of the world. And for the first couple of months I fed and fucked my way through Europe without a second thought. But then I started to realise that I didn't want to live like that, I'd already changed in my time with Alice, even though I hadn't realised it, had always refuted her claims that it was so.

Gradually I weaned myself off human blood again. On my own this time, Alice would have been so proud. Maybe not of the rest of it though.

I met lots of new vampires, took in all the sights and serviced all the ladies. I needed the distractions. But eventually they weren't enough and even I had face up to reality.

And so I'm back, from outer space, with that sad look upon my face. And you should have changed that stupid lock and made me leave my key. Because I've no idea how this is going to work out.

Only that I want to try.

The new house is easy to find, tucked away on the edge of the forest without a neighbour for miles. Very nice. At least the drive is asphalt this time, I didn't fancy a hire car so I bought a Dodge Viper that has all the ground clearance of a road roller.

The family's scents are old but Kate, Carmen and Eleazar's are fresh.

There's a new scent here too. A sensuous floral scent. Must be the new vampire that's staying with the Denalis. I'm interested to meet her, her start in this life sounds a lot like Alice's, and like Alice it sounds like she's turned out okay despite it.

I pull up outside the garage and hop out, soaking up the scents and sounds of my, our, new home. The house is ultra-modern chic, something the usually traditional Esme gets a hankering for from time to time. Glass, steel and highly polished wood. And boy stuff, a generator, solar panels, a satellite dish, infrared security system. Good to see that Em bothered to get involved in the selection and fit out process.

As I lean down to retrieve my case from the back of the car I hear Kate's squeal and running feet, closely followed by Carmen and Eleazar. About time. The owner of the tantalising scent follows more slowly and curious I grab the rest of my stuff and turn with what I hope is a winning smile on my face. The new me.

Hovering uncertainly behind Kate is an incredibly beautiful vampire, poured into a form fitting red dress, with flowing chestnut hair to her waist and shimmering gold eyes.

And I've seen her before.

When I drained and killed her, burying her body in Forks, Washington.

Except she's not dead. Not in the classical sense.

As the smile dies on my face her eyes go wide in shock.

"It was _you_." She whispers.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 15 Kick in the Teeth**

**BPOV**

It's him. The golden angel from my random memory. The one who was looking after me. Except he wasn't. He was biting me. He was killing me.

"It was _you_." I whisper in realisation as time screeches to an abrupt stop around us.

"Jasper?" Eleazar's voice sounds like he talking underwater.

Jasper's eyes darken slowly, like someone's squirted the blackest of black paints into them.

He doesn't seem very pleased to see me.

"Bella?" Kate's hand on my shoulder is like the brush of a feather. Insubstantial, inconsequential.

His face hardens around his now sinister empty eyes. How wrong they look framed by those thick gold lashes.

As he opens his mouth to speak time starts up again.

I'm not staying to hear whatever he's about to say.

Whirling and kicking off my high heels at the same time I run for the trees.

"Bella!" Kate screeches after me. And then. "What the fuck?"

My head's going to explode. My head's going to explode. My head's . . . .

Eventually one of the truncated thought processes in my brain manages to make its presence felt and I slow to a walk. I've been running for an hour and it's solved absolutely nothing.

I was taking my new truck for a spin. I swerved to avoid something in the road and ran it into a ditch. I don't remember what happened next, I must have hit my head or something. When I woke up the golden angel was taking care of me. He kissed me. And then he bit into my neck. It hurt, burned. And then I woke up. He covered me in some dirt and stones, I thought it was a comforter, how dumb am I?

He killed me.

Except he didn't do a proper job. Or did he mean to do this to me? Is this some sort of fucking JOKE?

Rage rushes into my shock, turning the greyish timbre of my thoughts a bright arterial red.

He did this to me. I don't give a fucking shit if it was an accident or deliberate. He. Did. This. To. Me.

I've had many a bout of uncontrollable anger in this new life but nothing like this. I literally _can't_ move. My fury is locking me in place like a concrete bodysuit. But inside the suit I'm shaking like a leaf, every muscle in my body thrumming with electricity yet lined with ice.

I really do feel like I'm going to explode.

Can vampires do that? Don't tell me after all this I'm just going to shatter into a million tiny pieces and blow away on the wind leaving as little impression in death as I did in life?

I should have ripped his stupid head off when I had the chance. Or at least told him what I thought of him.

But I'm neither violent nor confrontational and the truth is that nothing in either of my lives has prepared me to act in _any_ way on what I'm feeling now.

Is that why I'm stuck? I'm _angry_, surely there must be a better word, but I don't know how to even start expressing it.

My stupid brain scrambles off on several tangents at once.

Maybe I need an artist's pad. If I drew him a picture of what I'd like to do to him he'd get the message . . .

Perhaps he knows, he's supposed to be empathic isn't he? What a waste of a gift _that_ was . . . .

I HATE HIM.

That word seems to release the floodgates and suddenly I'm moving again. Venting my frustration at myself on the local landscape.

I should have stayed and _demanded_ some answers. Not run away like a little kid.

Eventually, predictably, I start to calm down. Or more correctly my higher brain functions start to re-assert themselves.

We we're going to a club tonight. I'll never tell Kate but I was looking forward to it. A lot.

What is he? My own personal demon. Is there such a thing as an anti happiness demon and if there is how the hell did _I_ get one?

With a sigh I sink down and rest my back against the only tree still vertical enough for the purpose.

My dress is ruined.

And my feelings on this development are complex.

There's the obvious. First I longed to know what was happening to me. Then I finally got my answer and a new question, who and why. To be honest I never for one moment expected to find out, it felt like one of those things you _shouldn't_ know. Because then you have to deal with it. And I reasoned that being a vampire was enough on that front already. But now I do know, the who anyway, which means I have to know the why.

And I resent the hell out of that. I was adjusting and I was _coping_. Now I feel like I've been shoved right back in the shit. If I tried to explain that to anyone else they'd probably think I'm crazy but it makes sense to me. Instinct tells me I probably don't _want_ to know why.

But worse is that when I finally found out what I was and got the amazing break of being able to get to know others like me it all comes to a screeching halt because one of them turns out to be the one who did this to me in the first place.

Argh!

Kate appears at the bottom of the slope.

Great.

"I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me." She says quietly. "But I won't actually go away until you do."

Wordlessly I pat the ground and in the blink of an eye she's sat beside me.

"Did he tell you?" I ask.

"Yes. He was as surprised as you were. He thought he'd killed you."

"That's nice." I observe.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

I sigh and stretch my legs out in front of me.

The silence ekes out to two hours twenty seven minutes and 17 seconds. I know, because _someone _turned me into a vampire and I can keep perfect time.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks finally.

I shake my head. What's to talk about?

"I'm normally happy to do all the talking." She sighs. "But I've got nothing. I left to come find you just as Eleazar was laying into Jasper."

"Humph."

"Eleazar's all for turning him into The Volturi. I suspect Jasper's talking his way out of it right now."

"He wouldn't do that would he?" I gasp in horror. Not over me, no matter how hard done by I feel.

"He's usually been able to talk himself out of most things. Silver tongued charmer is the phrase Alice used to use."

"No, not J-J-J . . . ." No, can't say his name. "Eleazar won't get him into trouble will he?"

"I sincerely doubt it. But I have to admit I'm curious, don't you _hate_ him right now?"

"I want to." I answer truthfully.

"Well that sounds perfectly normal. Even I'm off him at the moment. Stupid asshole. What do you mean _want_ to?"

"I've never hated anyone before." I hedge.

She just keeps looking at me expectantly until I sigh in resignation.

"I don't know how."

"I don't think there's an instruction manual for it." She snorts. "Do you want to kill him?"

"Injure badly?" I offer in exchange.

She nods.

"Kinda."

"Want me to hold him down for you?"

A teeny tiny giggle escapes me but I shake my head.

"Are you sure you're a vampire?" She asks with mock suspicion.

"Really? You're asking me? I spent the last three years wondering if I should be wearing my underwear over my tights."

She laughs and slaps my thigh.

"You'll get through this Bella, just like you have everything else."

Yeah. I suppose I will.

Forty two minutes and six seconds later she asks me a question I've been dreading.

"Are you ready to come home yet?"

"It's _his _home." I object automatically. "And I don't want to see him. I can't . . . ."

I'm not sure I ever want to see him again. I've remembered what happened to me, maybe that's enough? What could he possibly say to me to make any of it better? I am what I am now, does his side of the story even matter? Even if he said sorry and meant it I can't see how it changes anything . . . .

She's quiet for a moment, mulling it over.

Please, _please_ don't make me. I'm not cut out for this. I don't know what to do, how to behave . . . .

"I don't want you to just leave."

"What else can I do?"

"Hear his side of the story? Not let him take anything else away from you, drive you away from your new friends. Your _only_ friends."

I know she's not being cruel, I don't think she has it in her. She's just being truthful.

"Don't make yourself go through this on your own too."

Anguish twists my insides. I don't want to go. I don't want to be on my own again, certainly not now, but how can I stay?

"How about a compromise?" She asks when I can't muster a response.

"You certainly shouldn't be on your own now. How about I go home, find out what's gone on in our absence and then, if he's still there, send him to a motel for the night? That way you can come back and we can at least talk everything through with Carmen and Eleazar before you make any decisions."

"I don't know . . . ."

"At least come back and get your stuff. I'm not fetching it for you."

I glare at her. She knows how attached I am to my ratty belongings.

Since neither of us blink the stare down goes on for quite some time.

"Alright." I huff ungraciously when I can't stand it any longer.

"I'm trusting you." She says seriously as she gets to her feet.

"What if he won't go?" I ask voicing my primary fear.

"And you need to trust me. Besides Carmen and Eleazar will back me up. You're more important than he is right now."

She starts down the slope and then stops, turning back to me.

"You'd better be here when I get back." She threatens. "I'm a pretty decent tracker."

I nod. That much at least I'll promise.

In less than a second she's disappeared.

How the hell did I get myself in this position? I should leave now before anything else goes wrong.

But I don't move. Instead I sink back inside myself and run through everything again in my head, who knows maybe it will all come out different this time . . . .

He's practically on top of me before I even realise he's there and I freeze like a rabbit in the headlights, gazing up into his blank face.

"Eleazar sent me out to find you." His voice is expressionless.

Mine is gone.

"I think he was hoping we would talk." He continues, raising one sculpted eyebrow slightly.

"To each other." He prompts.

The he sighs and squats down so his eyes are level with mine.

He's physically huge with an even bigger presence and I shrink back against my tree.

"I would never have left you like that if I'd known."

"You'd have made sure I was dead." My voice is small and scared, like me.

He shrugs.

"You'd have made sure I was dead." I repeat with a little more strength.

He nods.

At least he's honest. Ish.

My sudden desire for him to say sorry takes my breath away and I inhale sharply.

But he just keeps looking at me through those cold expressionless eyes and for the first time I'm grateful that I can't cry tears. That's definitely something he doesn't get to see.

"I can't feel your emotions because of your gift but I'm guessing I'm not your favourite person right now. I need you to be a grown up about this. Everything turned out okay. When I bit you, you were just food to me, it wasn't personal. The cost of me staying here is to pretend for Eleazar and the others that I care about what happens to you now. I don't."

"You're an asshole." I gasp in shock.

"Yep." He responds, surging to his feet in a disturbingly fluid movement. "A damn great big one."

And with that he saunters off.

I don't know what I was expecting. The apology? Some sign of regret for what he did to me? Some respect for me as a person?

Whatever it was I didn't get it and I'm too shocked to even be angry.

Asshole. _Damn_ great big one.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 16 Learning to Stand Your Ground**

**BPOV**

I'm still frozen in place when Kate zooms back into view and practically throws herself on me.

"Are you alright? I could have killed Eleazar when I got back and found he'd sent Jasper after you. Why don't men have any common sense? It's not rocket science is it?"

I shake my head, unsure what to say and afraid of breaking down and bawling like a baby.

"Did he apologise?"

I snort.

"I'll take that as a no then." She sighs. "I wouldn't take it personally, Carmen, Esme and Rose say that getting a man to say sorry for fucking up is like trying to get an octopus into a string bag."

I manage a weak smile. Based on the experience I've just had I don't think an apology is going to be forthcoming, not even a fake one.

And then it occurs to me that maybe my presence here is going to drive a wedge through a close family. Kate, and it seems Carmen and Eleazar, are expecting something to happen that isn't going to. For J-J-J . . . . For he and I to accept what happened and each other.

"I have to go." I murmur, pulling away from her.

"Oh no you don't. Carmen will skin me alive if I come home without you now. Jasper's gone to a motel. He won't be back until Carmen says its okay."

"And that's why I have to go. You guys are a family. And he's right. I need to be a grown up and I _am_ okay."

"He wasn't bothered." She says, looking at me strangely. "He said he knew you needed some time. He was nice about it."

I snort. Nice and J-J-J, Asshole, aren't two words I can put together yet.

I might not hate him, I just don't seem to have it in me to _hate_, but I can definitely say that I actively dislike him. With knobs on.

"I don't belong here."

"Maybe you don't. But you don't belong anywhere else yet either. Come back and get your stuff. Have a shower and for god sake put some decent clothes on. This isn't Canada, it's Maine, and you can't run around here naked."

I look down and then groan.

The front of my beautiful red dress is hanging down in shreds. Fantastic. I might not have let him see me cry but now there isn't much else he hasn't seen.

Miserably I let her make me presentable and drag me back to the house where Carmen and Eleazar are waiting on the porch steps like two life size dolls.

...

I still don't know exactly how they persuaded me to stay. The three of them were just so damn _reasonable_.

Stand your ground, they said, you haven't done anything wrong.

He's a good man. This has been a terrible shock to him, what with losing Alice and all, he probably didn't mean to upset you.

We're here to help both of you come to terms with what's happened.

You shouldn't have to be alone again so soon.

No, the family won't break up because you're here. He has to learn to acknowledge your existence and hopefully you'll learn to accept him.

We want you to stay. We want you to meet the Cullens too. You should have the chance to get to know as many vampires as possible, to learn more about what you are now.

Eleazar will spontaneously combust if he doesn't get to teach you about your gift soon. And nobody wants that on their conscience.

You haven't had anywhere near enough fun yet.

There was some other stuff too, but that was the gist of it.

Finally I escape to my room, cleaning myself up and donning a set of sweats I stole that make me look like a two year old wearing her dad's clothes. Then I settle down to wait for him to come back, even though I have no desire to see him or talk to him, he seems to be uppermost in my thoughts. And I _hate_ that.

I hear his car returning and them him bounding up the front steps. Immediately his scent permeates the house, like the woods after spring rain.

How someone so nasty can smell so heavenly is beyond me.

Carmen and Eleazar have gone for a post drama hunt but I know that Kate's downstairs, waiting for him too.

Silently I lie down and press my ear to the floor. The house is soundproof but sometimes, like humans, they seem to forget that I'm around.

"She's staying then." His voice is different, deep and _warm_.

"Of course." Kate answers. "Why would she leave?"

The couch springs give and I hear him sigh.

"It would be so much easier if she did." He says after a pause.

"For who?" Kate asks and I can detect the annoyance in her tone.

"For her. This can't be easy for her. I'm not exactly sire material. Pete's the only vampire I've made I haven't killed later." He responds wearily.

"Easier for you too."

"I didn't say it wouldn't be." He snaps.

"She didn't tell me what you said but I got the distinct impression you weren't very nice to her." A hard edge creeps into Kate's voice.

No reply but he must have stood up because I can hear is boots thudding across the floor toward the stairs.

"Nice to see you again too, Jasper." Kate chuckles and the TV comes on.

I scramble up, yes I know eavesdropping is wrong, and flit to the armchair in the corner, picking up my book.

He climbs the stairs and starts down the hallway.

When he reaches my door his footsteps pause but then move on and a moment later the door to another room opens and closes.

I exhale loudly.

He scares me in a way. But then I suppose since he killed me and consigned me to this living hell it's hardly surprising.

No matter how hard I try my stupid brain can't concentrate on anything by way of a distraction, instead I'm hung up on every little sound coming from his room and eventually I give up climb out of the window.

Might as well go kill something for breakfast. How very _vampire_ of me.

**JPOV**

Fan-fucking-tastic.

As if I haven't got enough mistakes I'm trying to put behind me, now I've got a walking talking one living in the same god damn house.

When I find out who wrote this Greek tragedy I'm gonna rip him a new one.

Growling quietly to myself I unpack my stuff and take a shower.

Then I unpack the boxes of books Esme left for me after the move and alphabetize them on the floor to ceiling shelves.

All the time miserably aware of _her_ somewhere down the hall, like I could forget, the whole place smells like someone's tipped a bottle of perfume over it. My attention keeps wandering, trying to sense her emotions and listening out for any sign of movement.

Which is fucking annoying. I want to forget she exists, not track her like Jodrell Bank after a UFO.

In the end I can't stand it any longer and pulling on clean jeans I slip out through my balcony doors, might as well explore the new territory.

**BPOV**

Determined to be properly distracted I head way out in search of a nice tasty meat eater or two, losing myself in the hunt and the unpopulated backwoods.

With my medicinal needs taken care of I stretch out on a large flat rock and watch the clouds scud across the horizon. My snarly thoughts temporarily in the background. Strangely at peace.

I'm not going to leave I've decided, not until the Cullens come home, although I reserve the right to change my mind. And I'll stop being such a baby and let poor Eleazar explain my gift to me, who knows it might even be something useful, Asshole said he couldn't feel my emotions, which is alright by me.

And maybe I'll ask Kate if we can go dancing tonight. I've done the lessons, might as well put them to good use, who knows I might even enjoy it. Won't find out if I don't try.

I know they want Asshole and I to talk things through but I still can't really see the use. He was hungry and he was careless. He's not sorry. If I'm stubborn I reckon I can put it off until I'm ready to leave and I'm sure after what he said last night he'll be more than happy to let me.

I can do this. I made it through three years on my own and I've heard enough now about newborns to know that that's quite an achievement. So fuck him. I don't need him now anyway. He is entirely superfluous to requirements and if I had the nerve I'd tell him so.

I'd better go back. My dress is trashed and I'm fairly sure the sight of my alternative outfit will give Kate a conniption.

Feeling rather proud of myself for my mature, and frankly astonishing ability to cope with the situation, I start making my way back.

I'm just about to walk out into the meadow a couple of miles from the house when I realise someone's there.

Of course. _Him_.

Dressed only in jeans he's waving his arms around with his back to me.

What's he doing, directing traffic?

Curious I backtrack and flip up into a tree, peering out over the distance through the foliage.

For a moment I think he's doing ballet, which is so ludicrous a small snort of laughter escapes me, but then it dawns on me he's practising some sort of martial art.

Mesmerised I watch the muscles of his back bunch and glide under his skin as he moves. He's much more heavily muscled than I would have imagined, not body builder muscled, more athletic, lean and sculpted.

When he turns round I duck back, afraid that he'll see me, gradually leaning forward again as he continues his movements.

His skin is hatched with fine white lines, like proper marble. I look down and check the back of my hands. Definitely different. Is all our skin different, like fingerprints?

Absorbed I study him. His shoulders and chest are broad and muscular, his abdomen defined and narrowing down to slim hips hugged by his jeans.

Ew. I just looked at his man bits.

My eyes flip up to his face. He looks relaxed. Content, perhaps that's the point of the exercises. His eyes are closed, long lashes sweeping his cheeks. His gold hair is slightly curly, framing his face, the ends brushing along his jaw line.

He's actually quite handsome. Almost beautiful. No wonder I thought he was an angel.

Immediately I start to feel uncomfortable but I'm too scared to move in case he sees me.

Great. I'm trapped up in this tree ogling him like some sex starved teenager.

Oh wait. I am a sex starved teenager. Thanks to _him_.

Carefully I climb down and skirt the meadow, sighing in relief when I'm past the danger and speeding up to get back to the house.

"You move like a bull in a china shop." His voice, cold and flat, comes from right behind me and I crash to a stop, whirling to face him. "Vampires are supposed to be silent and deadly."

When I don't respond he rakes his hard eyes over me and I have to fight back the urge to squirm.

"Do you make a habit out of spying on people?" He asks.

If only you knew.

"I'll give you some free advice. Don't make a habit of it with _me_." Now his voice has a distinct edge to it.

No problem, that was an accidental one off, I'd rather watch paint dry.

His eyes narrow and darken slightly.

And for some reason I can't identify one of my eyebrows decides it's got more balls than the rest of me and shoots up questioningly.

"That's a good outfit for you." He drawls after a moment. "Do you trip over the sleeves when you run?"

Have you always been a giant asshole, or did you have to be specially 'stretched' to make the grade?

Shocked at the bravery of my eyebrow and the snarky comebacks in my head I turn away from him and run back to the house.

Quickly.

Maybe one day before I leave I'll get to insult him out loud. I shall look forward to it with cautious optimism.

Asshole.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 17 Fun**

**BPOV**

My new found acceptance of life as it is, lasts all the way through the trip to the mall, getting ready, having my hair curled, being made up like one of those bodiless blonde dolls and displayed in the living room as exhibit 'A'.

Right up until you know who steps in, clearly dressed up to come with us, scowling at me like I'm a skunk that's sprayed him.

Great.

Oblivious to the sudden tension in the air the others herd us out to his car and we all climb in. Carmen in the front, the rest of us rammed into the back, Eleazar and Kate chattering happily about what a good night we're going to have.

I studiously avoid his cold dead eyes as they flick to me in the rear view mirror from time to time. I'm nervous enough about going to a club as a customer, something I never actually got to be old enough to do, without my fear of being around him freaking me out.

What happened to my bravado of this morning? Maybe one of those bobcats was on drugs . . . .

The club, Denman's, is far more upmarket than anything I've kitchen slaved in. The upholstery isn't torn, the carpets don't stick to your shoes and the bar area isn't a sea of spilt alcohol and crushed beer nuts. No matter how deeply I inhale I can't smell sawdust or fried food, who knew? Beyond that it's really not that different. The clientele are in various stages of inebriation and the bass tone of the music is making the bronchioles in my dried out lungs sing.

But it is a different experience. I paid to get in. The doorman called me ma'am and didn't try to send me round to the staff entrance in the alley. And so far no one's shoved a mop at me and ordered me to clean up puke. Something that may just be less disgusting than pouring out milk . . . .

"What would you like to drink?" Kate asks as Eleazar and Asshole gently shoulder their way to the bar.

"Um?" She's got me there.

"Two Manhattans." She informs Eleazar before turning back to me. "I think they're vaguely acceptable at the moment."

"Rum and coke." Carmen orders with an apologetic shrug. "I like the smell."

"Table!" Kate shrieks, dragging Carmen and I over to claim it.

Amazing. I've heard that so many times but never understood quite why the shouters were so excited. Talk about viewing life from the other side.

The guys bring our drinks over and to my intense relief Eleazar sits down with us but _he_ wanders off into the crowd.

"Smell." Carmen orders, shoving hers under my nose.

"Um."

"You don't like it?" She sounds surprised.

"It's um, er . . . ." It smells like dirt, chemically treated dirt.

"Carmen." Kate chides her. "You're weird, get used to it."

Carmen sighs and leans back in her seat. Eleazar laughs and pats her leg.

"This is the first time we have been dancing in ages, shall we my love?"

"I thought you would never ask." She simpers and he bears her off into the crowd.

"Now what?" I ask, twirling my Manhattan and recoiling from the stench.

"We wait." Kate chuckles. "And if you can rein in your ice maiden stare for a few minutes I'm sure an opportunity will present itself."

What? I don't . . . . Wait a minute, we're supposed to be dancing not . . . .

"Close your mouth." She whispers. "It's not even attractive for a vampire."

I clamp my jaw shut and glare at her mutinously.

She raises an eyebrow.

Oh hell.

"Can't we just dance first?" My voice is almost pleading. "I'm prepared to dance."

The corner of her lip quirks up. Ah crap, manipulated . . . .

"Okay." She chuckles. "We'll dance, _first_ . . . ."

Grabbing my hand she tugs me out into the center of the dance floor.

"Come on!" She urges as I grind to an embarrassing halt. "We've practised with this one. Forget everyone else. Let yourself go. Dance!"

Oh hell. I can kill anyone in here who dares laugh at me or I can just wait until they've died of natural causes to come back to the town.

Closing my eyes I feel my way into the music. I actually quite like this track, it always has me tapping my toes. With some trepidation I grant my body permission to move.

"Nobody's looking at you." Kate says. "They're all too busy having fun."

Cautiously I open my eyes.

She's right. A ring of hysterically laughing locals has yet to form.

With a wink she spins around, undulating sensuously.

Okay. I'm here to _live_. I copy the movement, finding her smiling with approval as I wiggle back to face her.

She shimmies down and back up again.

I almost copy her again but I'm not feeling it so instead I spin, catching sight of Carmen and Eleazar who grin with approval.

It's shaming that they all know I'm a complete newbie at this but it's also kinda freeing. Everyone's got to start somewhere and I'm starting here. So what if I don't go out of the blocks like a pro . . . . As long as no one laughs I can do this . . . .

Elbows in, keep the flying limbs to a minimum, you can inflict more than a slight bruise here, more like a freeway pile up . . . .

God there's so much to think about, I bet no one else in here is troubled with the possibility of accidently knocking someone into the next block with a bodacious move . . . .

"Don't over think it." Kate giggles. "You already know your limits with the squishers, trust yourself."

The music changes and she begins running her hands over her body lasciviously. That's a lesson or two beyond me so I settle for fleetingly touching my hips and butt. No one's looking at me anyway, every male eye in the vicinity is tracing Kate's hand movements like an owl watching a mouse. Some mouths are open and one or two pairs of pants are a little, um, _stretched_.

The music changes again. And now we've joined hands, moving together, bodies not quite touching but moving in unison like we practised at the house.

More pants are in danger, discrete adjustments being made, and I know I should be disgusted but I'm not. I feel sort of _powerful_ . . . .

Now I can hear us being talked about, Kate mainly but me too. I've known for a while that guys can be over optimistic jerks, but, wow, as if . . . .

But just as I'm about to tell Kate I've experienced enough the catnip phenomenon comes into play and a group of guys dance up to us.

Very, _very_ gently I slap a questing hand away from my butt and fix the culprit with an icy stare.

"_Bella._" Kate growls at what I now know to be vampire speed.

Okay, no ice maiden. Carefully I arrange my features into an apologetic and hopefully drunk looking smile. God knows I've seen enough of them . . . .

Which only gets me felt up again.

Gritting my teeth I dance around to the other side as the best looking one homes in on Kate. I don't feel hard done by, somehow I think my natural human progression to nightclub life would have led to the same outcome. Some of us are just born to be wallflowers . . . .

With one ear on their conversation, for educational purposes, I look around for the others. Carmen and Eleazar have progressed from dancing to practically making love on the dance floor, they have their own appreciative audience. And quite right too, they look made for each other . . . .

Asshole is nowhere in sight or earshot, although I can still smell him . . . .

After a couple of hours Kate drags me off the dance floor and back to our table, pointing out that we should be panting heavily and drenched in sweat by now, our admirers certainly are.

Carmen and Eleazar are already there.

"Finally." Carmen sighs theatrically. "We are ready to go now. Jasper is making out with some big chested blonde but we have his keys. Are you two coming?"

"You must be joking." Kate pouts, inclining her head toward our admirers who are getting ready to move in. "We'll get a cab."

"A cab?" I can't help but ask.

"Young ladies should not be out alone at night." Eleazar explains. "It's easier than dealing with the potential consequences if someone attacks you."

"Oh." Of course. My poor mugger certainly got a great deal more than he bargained for.

As soon as they depart our admirers join us.

My lack of social skills soon has me consigned to the edge of the conversation, no matter how much the ass grabber would like to change that. I don't mind though, this is people watching at its best. Or rather Kate watching. I wonder if the guy would be any less eager to get in her panties if he knew what she was? At this point I'm guessing not, his poor tongue is practically lolling on the table and I'm starting to wonder if his, um, is capable of shredding a pair of expensive slacks . . . .

I'm very curious about the mechanics of human vampire coupling but not that curious. When their making out reaches the point where it looks like she's going to swallow him whole I decide I've had enough fun for one night.

Using a migraine as an excuse I make my farewells and promise to put myself in a cab before ass grabber can offer to do it for me . . . .

I've no idea where Asshole is and even less interest so I make my way outside and start walking back toward the house, I'm not wasting money on a cab, I'm a vampire from the other end of the social scale and besides it's very rare for anyone to notice me anyway. But I do take my shoes off to blend in with the other late night revellers in party dresses. As soon as I can I dissolve into the shadows and increase my speed, running flat out when the city limits are behind me.

Back at the house Carmen and Eleazar are, um, dancing horizontally, so I flit up to my room and change and grab some stuff before bailing out the window and heading for the backwoods, humming 'Love is All Around Us' in my head.

It's nice but it's not really something I can associate with, or sit and read a book and listen to.

When I've found a nice secluded spot I build a fire, something I finally learnt to do, and grab my iPod.

Content I hunker down and stretch my palms out to warm them on the dancing flames.

I don't mind the solitude I've realised during the drama of the last few days. I recognise that's not the same as an eternity of loneliness, the idea of _that_ scares the pants off me, but I know now that I can _be_ alone. Of course it's easier when you know what you are and that you aren't the only one. But I can see a future I can live with now and I've eternity to spend time on my own, with others of my kind and among the humans, now that I understand better how to do it. And it doesn't seem too bad or even so very different to the life I used to imagine as a teenager who didn't quite fit in anywhere. Hell there are even some advantages.

And like anybody's life I have to wait and see how it's going to pan out as I make the best choices I can.

Maybe I should go somewhere warm next? Experiment with being a proper vampire that only comes out at night. Vegas. That seems like a place a vampire would go, although I'm a bit hazy on the local wildlife, do they have herds of deer in Nevada? I'll have to look into it. I've missed the sun, I miss Phoenix. I miss my mom.

No, not being maudlin tonight. I had fun, modest by comparison to the others apparently, but fun nonetheless. I feel like I've lived a bit and I could do it again. And that's enough for now. It's a start.

Of course I can't relax completely, my stupid brain won't stop meandering around from thought trail to thought trail but I'm even getting used to that now I know it's normal. Maybe I could get Asshole to teach me whatever he was doing this morning, that looked relaxing . . . . Then again maybe not. I'm sure I can get a book, find a class, after all I've got time to learn all manner of stuff. Yoga might suit me better, or transcendental meditation, whatever the hell that is . . . .

I don't know how I know he's there, I just do. It prickles, like knowing you've seen a hairy ass spider run across the carpet out of the corner of your eye.

With an internal sigh I pull my ear buds out and pause my music as he materializes by the fire.

"What's the point of having nature's sharpest senses if you dull them with technology?" He growls.

I don't know, you tell me, wouldn't be a problem if you weren't out to ruin my night.

He stinks of human and sex and it's all I can do not to wrinkle my nose. Jeez he could have at least showered.

"Eleazar sent me to fetch you."

Consider me fetched. Your usefulness here is done.

"You should be careful around fire."

Yeah. I've worked that out thanks.

"Why?" He asks, crouching down and warming his own hands on my fire.

Why what? Why am I not pleased to see you?

"Why did you build a fire? It's not like you need one."

"I don't like being alone in the dark." I answer automatically.

"Afraid a monster will get you?" He laughs nastily.

Not anymore. I've met you already, remember?

"We need to get back." He decides, getting to his feet and turning his back to me as he kicks dirt into _my_ fire. _My_ contentment.

That's it! The red hot fury starts in my toes and travels all the way up to my hairline in mere nanoseconds, raising the hairs on my head like I've had an electric shock and obliterating all conscious thought.

Screaming in my head I leap to my feet, hurling myself at him and opening my mouth to sink my teeth into whatever part of him I can reach.

Easily he spins and catches me, ramming me down into the ground, his big hand clamped around my throat as he kneels over me.

And terror washes out my ire with a cold flush.

Vampire!

His eyes are coal black, pupils wildly dilated, nostrils flaring, mouth curled into a vicious but silent snarl, lethal teeth exposed.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit . . . .


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 18 Rollercoaster**

**JPOV**

I close my eyes, fighting down the beast.

She's just a fucking kid man, what are you _doing_?

By degrees, with each breath I drag into my lungs, I manage to get a hold of myself.

But I'm afraid to open my eyes, I don't want to see the terror in hers, I _really_ don't need that. She hasn't moved a muscle, not even blinked those ridiculously long, thick, eye lashes.

Fuck!

Whitlock you can be such a stupid cunt at times!

Alright.

I open my eyes.

Hers are as big as saucers, her full lips slightly parted.

Ah _crap_.

Reflexively I release her and back away.

She doesn't move.

I offer my hand to help her up. Her eyes flick to it for a moment and then transfer back to my face.

Unwanted my hand drops back to my side and we stare at each other in miserable silence.

Tonight of all nights. I really don't need this shit.

"I shouldn't have done that." I offer in what I realise is at best a grudging tone.

She blinks.

"I have a problem with my temper."

Blink.

"And with being attacked."

Another blink. Her shimmering gold eyes always seem to see right inside me. And her expression has returned to haughtily blank, like it's beneath her to mention the shit they see. I fucking _hate_ that about her.

I've never met anyone so quiet and still, so _contained_. Or whose emotions I can't feel or influence.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, uncomfortably reminding myself of Edward, he used to do that all the time when he was disappointed in me. I fucking hated that too.

"Will you please just get up?"

Blink.

Argh!

With a frustrated snarl I reach down and haul her to her feet by her arm.

"Go home." I growl, turning her around and giving her a not so gentle shove in the back. "I'll clean up here."

She recovers and takes a slow step away from me, then another.

Go! For the love of . . . . Just fucking go!

"_Asshole_." She says, quietly but distinctly, before running into the trees and disappearing.

**BPOV**

Eleazar forgotten I run as fast as my feet will carry me, making as much noise as I damn well please.

I'm getting my stuff and I'm leaving. _Now_.

Nothing is worth this.

This whole life has scared me enough already, I don't need any more to deal with.

I've got Kate's cell number, I can ring her in a couple of days, she'll understand, I hope. I can leave a thank you note, I _want_ to, they've done so much for me. But I can't be around him, he's a psychopath or something . . . .

Gradually I register the new scents being carried on the breeze and even though I recognise them I slow to a walk. Vampires. The Cullens? They're like the old scent trails I've caught around here from time to time, but fresh and sharp.

I slow down even more, unsure what to do.

I wanted to meet them, it was all I was staying on for, well, that and chronic loneliness. But now I'm not so sure . . . .

I bet that's why Eleazar sent _him_ to fetch me . . . .

Damn! What do I do?

Behind me I hear his running feet.

And that decides me, safety in numbers, I'll say hello, get my stuff and leave as soon as they're all busy . . . .

I'm running again before I've even completed the thought.

Oh god he's gaining on me. How fast is he anyway? Can't I catch any kind of break where he's concerned? What is he Robopire?

I push myself harder but even so I burst into the yard in front of the house a mere few strides ahead of him, zeroing in on Carmen and Eleazar who part like the Red Sea to let me through and barely registering the open mouthed stares of all the new faces.

To my intense relief he crashes to a stop as I fly up the stairs like my ass is on fire and slam the door to my room shut.

"Fatherhood's going well I see." A new female voice drawls.

"Jasper." A masculine voice, measured and authoritative. "It's good to see you son."

"Carlisle. Esme." He sounds choked, upset.

"Oh Jasper." A soft feminine voice gasps.

And then two hard bodies come together, hugging I presume, with what sounds like some general back slapping and murmurs of greeting.

I should be packing my stuff and escaping out the window but curiosity has got the better of me. And I know it killed the cat, but . . . .

"I take it that was Bella?" The calm authoritative voice enquires after a few minutes.

No one says anything but someone must have nodded in response because he continues.

"Is she alright?"

Another pause.

"I'll go and see her." The soft voice decides.

"Jasper, come and help unload the car." Is the last thing I hear before footsteps arrive at my door, along with a light flowery scent and a gentle knock.

Taking a deep breath I smooth down my hair and open the door.

The woman is beautiful, small with long dark hair and an open friendly face, her gold eyes are warm as they politely skim over me.

"Bad day?" She asks with sympathy.

Shocked into honesty by the night's events I nod.

"I'm Esme." She says. "But you've probably worked that out already."

So much for the good impression, my stupid brain's absent without leave again.

"We're a large family." She says conversationally, making her way into the room and perching on the end of the bed. "That can be a little disconcerting if you're not used to it. I'm sorry we've descended on you without any notice. It seemed wrong to be on vacation when there were people we wanted to see at home."

I nod, it's something to do until my brain stops slacking off.

"I understand via Kate that you've had a rather rough start in this life?"

I manage a shrug. I didn't enjoy it but I've heard worse stories since I've been here.

"Did you know that Jasper's wife, Alice, also woke up without her sire?"

No, I didn't.

"She had a slight advantage over you, she could see the future, us, _him_. It gave her the strength to get through it."

Lucky Alice.

"Carlisle woke up alone too. But that was back in the days before vampires were fictional currency. He _knew_ what he was."

So do I, now.

"What you've done is nothing short of remarkable." She observes, patting the bed beside her. "I'd like to know how you did it, hear your stories, they must be quite something."

Reluctantly I sit down.

"You don't have to tell me now. There's plenty of time . . . ."

"I can't stay here." I blurt out.

"Jasper?"

Miserably I nod.

"He's had a rough life too Bella." She sighs. "And his start was nothing like yours, mine. He tries so hard to be better than he thinks he is but he has no forgiveness in him, for others or himself. I'm not making excuses for him, I have no idea what's happened since he came home, but I know him well enough to guess that he hasn't exactly had an outbreak of the warm and fuzzies where you're concerned . . . ."

I snort in derision. She's got that right.

"This is a big family Bella. We can deal with all manner of things, including two members who don't seem to like each other very much."

I start to object, I am _not_ a member of their family, but she interrupts me.

"I'd rather live with some conflict than know that you're alone again or Jasper is suppressing yet another mistake he can't come to terms with."

I stare at her open mouthed. I don't know what's shocked me more. That she'd so easily speak of me as family . . . . That she'd think I'd want to live with _his_ hostility just to avoid being alone . . . . Or that she'd apparently so easily consign me to that fate because she thinks it's best for _him_ . . . .

"Don't leave yet." She says, getting to her feet and patting my thigh. "You're tough. Tough it out a bit longer."

And she sweeps out, closing the door behind her.

Well fuck me . . . .

Undecided and confused I stay where I am, for once ignoring everything going on outside my room and instead trying to catch the ends of the myriad thought trails whipping around in my head . . . .

An hour passes and then there's another knock.

And an unwelcome scent that has my skin prickling.

He knocks again.

Go away.

"We need to talk."

No, I don't think we do.

"I'm not leaving until we've talked."

Want a bet?

"You can't refuse to talk to me forever."

I refer you to my previous comment, I think you'll find I can.

"Can I at least come in?"

You can do what you like.

Silently I slip my laptop and iPod into my backpack and flit out of the open window. Heading for the hills, figuratively and literally.

After a couple of hours I reach a new town, I've no idea whether its somewhere I want to stay for a while but regardless I feel the need to stop running and think through what to do next. I might even be able to get a car here.

In the diner I order a coffee and the breakfast special and bury my head in the newspaper.

But my relief is short lived.

Outside is grey and overcast but dry. Inside smells like spring rain, the kind that makes your skin prickle.

Resigned I lower the paper.

"Coffee." He tells the waitress as she hovers over him, clearly struck dumb by his looks and charming smile.

Which switches off like a light bulb when he turns his attention to me.

"You're very easy to follow." He drawls when she's walked away.

I'll work on it.

"And very difficult to talk to."

How would you know, this is the first time you've tried.

"Okay. Let me make this as easy as possible. I don't like you and you don't like me. Correct?"

Apparently.

"Humph. As much as I don't want you around I don't think you should leave yet."

Up goes my mighty eyebrow.

"You've been lucky to survive three years without running into some of the less savoury vampires out there. You can't move quietly. You're ignorant of how most vampires interact and you're totally incapable of defending yourself if you're attacked. You also haven't spent any time with Eleazar on your gift which could actually be quite useful in protecting you."

Thanks. I feel so much better now. Your concern is touching.

"And if you leave now I'm going to be in shit with Carlisle and Esme."

I stand corrected. Your concern for yourself is touching.

"So I want you to come back with me. I can help you with your self defence and contacts for the IDs and stuff you're going to need in the future and the others can help you with the other skills you'll need.

You'll be better off when you do go. There'll be less chance of you coming back because you're in trouble. And Carlisle and Esme will see that I've at least tried to deal with my issues."

Far be it from me to point out the flaw in that thinking but isn't the idea that you actually _do_ learn to deal with your issues?

Not that I care . . . .

"Well?"

It's a marvellous offer. I can't thank you enough. But I'm going to have to decline.

Gathering up my things I throw some money down on the table and stalk out. Spotting a used car lot I turn left and start walking up and down the rows, looking for anything in my price bracket.

"Hi there little lady!" A short bald man materialises as is from nowhere and starts following me. "What can I help you with today?"

"She's looking for a cheap reliable run about." Asshole answers before I can open my mouth.

"Ah Sir." The man titters nervously. "Didn't notice you there. What sort of price are we thinking?"

Asshole raises his eyebrow at me.

"Two thousand?"

"Certainly. Certainly. We have some lovely little import models over here . . . ." Practically jogging he leads us toward the back of the lot veering to the left of an RV as we pass it. Asshole follows him and I dart to the right, over the chain-link fence and away into the trees.

Even accounting for making his excuses to the salesman it doesn't take him long to run me down, grabbing me around the waist and tackling me to the ground.

He flips me over, his weight pressing me into the ground and like a coward I close my eyes, I don't want to see his black ones again.

"You're being very stupid." He growls.

I screw my eyes even tighter shut.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He assures me forcefully, lifting his weight off slightly.

And as my brain reacts in horror my knee takes matters into its own hands, jerking upward and catching him squarely in what Charlie used to call 'the gentleman's area'. The breath leaves his body with a loud hiss and I scramble out from under him and stagger to my feet.

But as I take my first step his hand flashes out, closing around my ankle and crashing me to the ground.

And there we are, rolling around in the leaf mulch, cursing and struggling when a highly amused voice interrupts.

"Jazz. Sorry man. If I'd known you were mud wrestling with a beautiful woman I'd have taken longer to find you."

I gasp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to pin me beneath him again, holding my hands down on either side of my head, his hard dark eyes boring into mine.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 19 Boil on the Ass of Life**

**BPOV**

"Bella and I are busy at the moment Emmett." He says quietly. "What can I help you with?"

"When Kate got home and found Bella gone and you AWOL the balloon went up. If I go home without the pair of you Esme's gonna have my balls with the pruning shears."

For some reason this makes me giggle, the vampire I can see over Asshole's broad shoulder is an enormous wall of rippling muscle and the idea of little Esme chasing him round with the intention of castrating him is highly amusing.

"We'll be with you in five minutes." Asshole growls, glaring down at me so the giggle dies on my lips.

"I'll just wander over there and wait for the five minutes then." The giant responds, disappearing from my view but thankfully not from earshot.

We stare at each other in increasingly uncomfortable silence.

And it dawns on me that this is an extremely intimate position for a man and a woman to be in, his hips resting between my thighs, his body pressing down on me, his face a mere inch from mine.

In fact this is the closest I have ever been to a member of the opposite sex.

And the depressing reality of the situation crashes down on me like a ton of bricks.

I close my eyes, biting my lip to keep from breaking down.

I'm dead. I'm never going to go to parties, get drunk and fumble around in the dark with boys. I've no family and only one person I could call a friend, who is inextricably linked to the only person I could call an enemy. And the man who made me dead and doesn't care is currently lying on top of me in some grotesque parody of the lover I'll probably never have.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He repeats, slightly more gently this time.

I shake my head, eyes still closed. Too late, you already have.

He sighs heavily, his breath wafting across my face and stirring my hair.

If I tap my heels together three times can I go home? Will it make it all go away?

No. It won't.

This I have already learned.

I open my eyes to find him frowning at me.

"Will you please talk to me?"

I don't know what to say.

"If I let you up will you run away again?"

I shake my head and emit a sigh of my own.

He leaps to his feet, towering over me. Does he realise how threatening that is?

Then, like last night, he offers me his hand.

Ignoring it I keep my eyes on his face as I climb to my own feet.

This seems to make him angry again but at least it means we're back in familiar territory.

"Are you coming home with us?" He demands.

I don't have an answer.

"Don't cut your nose off to spite your face." He growls quietly. "I've got nothing to offer you but the others have. Don't lose out on that just because I'm an asshole. This is a damn hard life to make it through on your own, I _know_.

Take the opportunities when they present themselves.

I've got no problem staying out of your way until you're ready to leave again."

Behind him I can see the muscular giant, Emmett, drawing closer.

He smiles at me encouragingly and nods slightly.

Is that an indication that he thinks Asshole's right? Or is he just concerned about Esme's pruning shears?

As if he can read my mind he winks and covers his bits with his huge hands.

Another giggle bubbles up inside me. And another.

This seems to make Asshole, who can't see what his brother is doing, extremely angry.

And finally I come full circle, does it always have to be so hard? I will go back. I will do what I said I was going to do. I will stay out of A'hole's way and I will leave when I'm good and ready.

Turning away I snatch up my backpack and start back toward the house with the giant Emmett jogging along beside me and A'hole silently bringing up the rear.

By the time we reach the house I have permission to call the giant Em, and his entire life history, both of them . . . .

...

Our return is greeted with a pleasing lack of reaction, only Kate grilling me to find out what actually happened.

Oh I know they talked about it, I heard most of it, but the general consensus seemed to be that at least he'd done something right by me in persuading me to come back. However he'd done it.

It wasn't his charm people, trust me . . . .

Nevertheless with surprising speed everything settles into some kind of routine.

Carlisle's started work at the local hospital almost immediately and Rosalie and Em have started back at High School. Esme offered to enrol me too and although I want to finish school one day I decided that doing it here and now is just a little too permanent for me. And I doubt A'hole would be particularly impressed. Tanya and Carmen are busy preparing to return to Denali. They've issued an open invitation for me to go with them and I'm tempted but I don't think I will, I've promised myself a vacation in the sun in exchange for dealing with all this and I've never liked cold wet things, I'm pretty sure Alaska qualifies . . . .

Not that I won't miss Kate. But isn't that what phones and social media are for, to keep in touch with your distant friends until you can see them again . . . .

It's all taking longer than I imagined though. I thought I'd be gone again in a few days, but this gift stuff . . . .

Eleazar can explain the basics of what he thinks I can do until he's blue in the face but it's such an alien idea I haven't even begun to work it out. Kate's helping as much as she can, talking me through how she learnt and developed hers but it's still so _conceptual_. He says I'm a mental shield, which makes me think of a Transformer with a shimmering force field for some reason, a reference that goes right over his handsome three hundred year old Spanish head every time.

Apparently the shield means that my mind is closed off and protected from other peoples. Something we all take for granted right? Wouldn't you just die if you thought your parents knew what you were thinking? I would have done, and gladly . . . .

But when you come into the world of the gifted walking dead it's a whole other ball game . . . .

Eleazar thinks that Edward wouldn't have been able to read my mind and we know Kate can't shock me. I was mildly offended to discover that she's been trying on and off since she met me but I was still sceptical until Em let her demonstrate, I've seen tasered humans stand up better than that, nasty . . . .

A'hole, the only other appropriately gifted vampire in the house, was brought in to consult and confirmed that he couldn't read or influence my emotions. There was a bit of a sticky moment when Eleazar asked him if that was also true when I was a human. No, he answered flatly, before walking out and disappearing for five hours.

Human traits, latent gifts, are often amplified by the change Eleazar explained. I filed the thought trail that episode provoked away somewhere I could hopefully ignore later . . . .

The funny thing is, being around vampires that think and act at vampire speed, has helped me to a degree with mastering or perhaps just accepting my wayward brain. Not to a level I'm comfortable with but it's a definite improvement. I still wish there was some other way I could subdue the fucking thing but Eleazar says all that comes with time and experience. Patience, he says, is a whole other mountain to climb . . . .

Anyway in the last couple of days I haven't mastered the fundamentals of what or where my shield is, never mind how I might be able to use it. I'd like to consider leaving again but I have to admit Eleazar's got me curious now and I want to know and understand whatever this thing is lurking in my head. _Wanting_ is one thing, actually getting hold of the damn thing is turning out to be quite another.

And all of this has led to a great deal of frustration which I have been working off by running for hours and hunting to the point of sloshiness, I didn't even know you could do that, it's an _odd_ sensation to say the least . . . .

And because I can't switch myself off very easily and I don't want to think about me I've been thinking about the others.

Carlisle is the owner of the calm authoritative voice, smooth and sophisticated, every inch the consummate doctor. And like Esme you can't help but like him, even if you're trying not to. Rosalie has taken me a little longer to work out, she's like a barracuda in a long blonde wig. But her bitchy ice queen persona isn't meant to be taken personally, she's even like it with Em, who she clearly adores. And she can be quite fun when she puts her mind to it. Em is exactly what it says on his tin, a gentle giant with a low boredom threshold and a sense of mischief that an ordinary person would need a trailer to haul around. I like Tanya, cautiously, she reminds me of the Principal at my old school, friendly and supportive but you knew she had a baseball bat in the bottom drawer of her desk and wouldn't be afraid to use it.

Being around all these vampires is teaching me about me if nothing else. There are just too many of them. The house is never quiet, there's always something going on. I think maybe it's also got something to do with not coming from a big family myself, from time to time I just _really_ feel the urge to be away from them. They're all very understanding about it, even Eleazar who is somewhat obsessed with his _lessons_,seems to know when I've had enough and need some time off.

And there are other drawbacks to this communal living. Sex. I know Eleazar said it has the same affect calming a vampire as hunting and feeding but god this lot are at it like rabbits, even the single ones who go out most nights and come back in the early hours happy and relaxed, reeking of it. Of course I've always known it goes on, especially since my change improved my hearing and sense of smell, but really, right now I kind of feel like I'm having my face rubbed in it. And it's stirring the most inappropriate carnal impulses in me considering that previously I'd only vaguely considered that I might not be a virgin for eternity and had only a Sex Ed / fictional idea of what's involved in it.

And I'm blaming A'hole for that. If he hadn't been rolling around on top of me maybe I wouldn't have noticed I was missing anything . . . .

And thinking about missing out on sex is a hell of a lot better than focussing on what I'm really missing out on . . . .

Some sort of 'Project Re-Habilitate _Jasper_' is apparently underway. They might never force us together, or in fact leave us alone together but they seem to manage to ensure we spend more time around each other than I would frankly like. And it always starts out okay, ish, but the more time he spends around me the narkier he gets until its finally so bad that even the other's can't fail to notice the growing atmosphere. That's when I make one of my now infamous exits. If I'm going to stay here for any length of time at all I can't afford to let any of them see how much his attitude gets to me.

I might not want or expect anything from him but in some strange way it hurts like a _bitch_ that I wouldn't get it if I did.

Asshole.

In addition to learning about my gift Em is teaching me self defence and Carlisle thought it would be a good idea if _Jasper _helps, seeing as how he has the most experience of fighting in the family. Why does _that_ not surprise me?

I managed to muster a vocal objection to that one but Em assured me that I wouldn't actually have to fight with _Jasper_, rather that he would watch and offer advice.

The first lesson in the meadow near the house was a disaster. Em flattened me so many times I was worried I'd drop a dress size and after an hour A'hole got to his feet muttering about the whole thing being torture and stomped off.

This being in the same State as my _sire_ is even harder than I anticipated. I'm hyper aware of him the whole time. His scent is always the strongest, his movements always the ones I pick out of the background noise, his voice the one that cuts through the general hubbub. It all serves to help me avoid him but at the same time it means I never really do, like a pimple on your butt, just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there.

**A/N This is my third attempt to post this chapter, after this its in the lap of the gods. They're probably looking the other way but we can but hope . . .**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 20 Patriarchal Manoeuvres In The Dark**

**BPOV**

He's the man with two faces.

The one the rest of the world gets. Witty, generous, _nice_. And the one I get. Cold and nasty.

And I mostly know this because I'm a sneaky little eavesdropper.

But I can't for the life of me understand how they keep forgetting I'm here, it's not like I can't hear them occasionally reminding each other that the rest of them might be listening . . . .

The underlying tension continues to ratchet up and I'm finding it harder and harder to keep my reaction to him hidden. Sometimes he makes me want to cry and at others I'd just like to bludgeon him to death with a blunt instrument. As if . . . .

It was self defence lessons that kicked it off today.

Em has me pinned for the millionth time when A'hole can stand it no more.

"Are you fucking stupid?" He howls, looming over Em and I as we giggle on the ground. "This isn't a joke! You'd be dead several times over by now if he seriously meant you any harm!"

"Um. Bro?" Em rolls me behind him but makes no attempt to get up. "Not all of us are cut out for this warrior stuff, she's actually getting quite good at defending herself, she isn't going to meet too many vampires my size out there in the big bad world."

"What if there's more than one?" A'hole demands, fixing Em with his icy stare.

"Not my area of expertise Jazz, maybe if you helped rather than . . . ."

"She doesn't want my fucking help!"

"And whose fault is that?" Em growls, suddenly serious.

A'hole's eyes narrow and darken.

Oh shit.

I don't want any of them getting involved in this.

"Forget it." I huff, surging to my feet. "I'm due back with Eleazar anyway. Thanks Em."

I haven't gotten very far before I'm run down, an arm lashing out and spinning me around by the shoulder.

"What?" I demand, forgetting for the moment that I don't talk to him.

He blinks in surprise, closing his mouth over what he was going to say, which is just fine by me.

"If you can't even at least pretend to be nice about this training then why don't you just leave Em and I alone to get on with it?"

"Carlisle wanted me to do it."

"And I'd rather you didn't."

He blinks at me again.

Yeah, that's right Asshole, it has an opinion.

Encouraged by my mouth the eyebrow shoots up.

His eyes darken again and I order my mouth firmly closed, the eyebrow takes a few seconds to come down though.

It's funny but I can almost see his internal struggle not to lose it, it's nearly as scary as when does.

"Fine." He snaps eventually. "I'll tell him you don't want me to help you."

You do that. Now if you'll excuse me I'm late.

...

On a happier note today's session with Eleazar has actually gone quite well. I still can't do anything with it but at least I think I've found it, it's like a translucent bubble around my head, my mental head that is, not my real one. The shield thing. See? Complicated.

Still at least it means I won't be running any marathons tonight so instead I've decided to curl up in my room with a book or two. Carlisle's very generously given me permission to raid his study for them whenever I feel the need.

However I lose my ability to concentrate when I hear A'hole and Carlisle talking downstairs.

Damn that man, why can't I just ignore him?

"She doesn't want me to."

The study door opens and closes and they sit down.

"Did she tell you that or did you assume?"

"She told me."

"Well at least she's speaking to you." Carlisle laughs.

A'hole growls.

"Jasper, I don't know what to say." Carlisle sighs and it sounds like his feet go up on the desk. "She was always bound to have issues with you, you left her for dead, ruined her life as she knew it and you're awfully grumpy with her at times . . . ."

"She irritates me."

"I don't understand why, she's quiet and unobtrusive, qualities you usually appreciate. She reads almost as much as you do. She can be amusing when she finds the confidence to speak. She's attractive, well educated, _self-_educated by necessity, considerate and has a rod of steel running through her that would put a concrete building to shame."

Someone shifts uncomfortably in their chair.

"Or is that the problem?"

"Don't be ridiculous." A'hole snaps.

A pause.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to school?" Carlisle asks, changing the subject.

"I hated it, you know I did, I'm a man not a kid and I always stuck out like a sore thumb anyway."

"Then what _are_ you going to do?"

"I don't know." A'hole answers with something akin to desolation.

"Have you thought about it?"

"I can't concentrate at the moment." He sighs dejectedly. "I had so much I wanted . . . ."

"Is it so hard to ask for help?" Carlisle asks gently.

Silence.

"Jasper . . . ."

Silence.

"Bells!" Em hollers from outside my door. "Group hunt in ten minutes, you in?"

"Okay!" I yell back.

"What about you?" Carlisle asks A'hole.

"I'm good thanks."

"Well I'm going, I have to be back at the hospital in a couple of hours."

His feet come down off the desk, hitting the carpet with a thud.

"You should come with us. You're part of this family, don't start shutting yourself off, not when you've just found your way back."

"I need to think."

"Edward always used to overthink things. It drove you mad as I recall."

"Everything drives me mad now Carlisle."

They both sigh.

"Eleazar says Bella's struggling with her concentration, new brain, outside pressures, overload of information . . . ."

"And?" A'hole asks suspiciously.

"Why don't you teach her Tai Chi?" Carlisle suggests. "It works for you, perhaps you can help her that way?"

Tai Chi? That's what he was doing in the meadow, now I can find a book on it . . . .

"Carlisle, is that really a good idea?"

"To be honest I can't see how it can hurt either of you at this point."

A long sigh.

"Teach Emmett at the same time, he's another one who could benefit from some inner peace, he's barely been in school a minute and already the principle is complaining to Esme."

"She won't want to do it . . . ."

"Is that your reason for not offering?"

Silence.

"Jasper, I know you've been _trying_ . . . ."

Even I can hear the air quotes around that word . . . .

"But I think you're going to have to _try_ a little harder under the circumstances. You made a mistake and poor Bella is the eternal consequence, she isn't going to go away no matter how much you wish for it to be so."

Another long sigh.

"Carlisle . . . ."

"You can do what you like Jasper, you're a man not a child, as you've pointed out. But if you don't at least try to help her there's a strong possibility that you'll live to regret it."

"How can I help her?" A'hole groans. "Have you seen her? What do you want me to do, teach her how to fuck up? Everything I try to take care of ends up dead . . . ."

"No." Carlisle chuckles. "I want you to teach her Tai Chi. And your cannabis plant is alive and well . . . . "

"She's not a plant."

"No, she isn't. She's a _woman_ and I'm afraid you're just going to have to learn to deal with it . . . ."

"_Jesus_, Carlisle!"

And I can hear the good doctor chucking as he scrapes back his chair and heads out into the hallway.

"Fuck!" A'hole exclaims into what I presume is a now empty study.

"Bells!" Em roars, making me jump this time. "Bears babe, you promised you know where the bears are around here!"

"Hop to it Bella." Rosalie drawls with less volume. "The rest of us won't get a proper meal until he's proved his prowess."

"Damn straight." Em growls to a round of happy laughter.

…..

To my surprise I quite enjoy our impromptu but somewhat crowded hunting trip. Thank god Kate, Carmen and Eleazar have already eased me past the instinctive stage of protecting my kill.

I'm not sure what Em was trying to prove wrestling with the bear, but it was certainly entertaining.

See how much I've changed? In my previous life I'd have found the idea of someone taunting an innocent bear disgusting . . . .

And it's fascinating to see how their hunting styles and food preferences reflect their personalities.

Esme takes down her deer gently, almost apologetically, snapping their necks before she feeds.

Carlisle is precise and definite, whatever he hunts goes down quickly with the minimum of fuss and is drained with the precision of a surgeon.

Rosalie is all predator and has no qualms about warning the rest of us off her prey.

Em is a sportsman, drawing it out for as long as possible, even it means going to ridiculous lengths of tom foolery.

Tanya makes it look like a ballet. Blood Lake.

Carmen and Eleazar work as a team, often feeding on the same animal like the cute dogs with the spaghetti in that Disney film.

Kate is Tanya and Em's love child. Graceful but inclined to be silly about it.

I wonder how I come across to them?

"Exocet." Carlisle murmurs, appearing behind me.

What?

"Hunting styles." He expands, nodding his head toward the others. "It's a very personal thing and something we all notice eventually. I think it tells you a lot about a vampire. You're like a guided missile. Totally focussed on your target and determined to get the whole thing over as quick as possible."

"I used to think of it as medicine, when I didn't know . . . ."

"That makes sense." He says. "Get the whole unpleasant business over so you can move onto something less upsetting."

I nod.

"Is that how you feel about being here with us?"

I just look at him. I can't answer that. It would sound rude and ungrateful. But I can't lie either.

"What's the difficulty?"

"Please, I don't want . . . ."

"You are entitled to your feelings Bella. No one can ever take those away from you. And I am not a person to judge you unfairly for them. I might even understand, after all you and I have some experiences in common."

"I haven't been around people, properly, in so long . . . ."

"A bit much?"

I nod miserably. I don't want it to be, it just _is_.

"You know you are welcome to come and go as you please?"

I should really ask for clarification but I can't summon the nerve so instead I nod again.

"Anything else?"

This time I shake my head.

"You know I met my sire, several years after my change."

"You did?" Shit, nobody told me that . . . .

"Yes. Esme is the only other person I've ever told."

"What happened?" I gasp.

"Well now Bella." He chuckles. "That's a very long story and I'm due at the hospital soon. What with your _lessons_ and my _schedule_ it's likely to be at least a week before I'm able to tell that tale . . . ."

You_ manipulative_ . . . .

Words fail me. Again.

"I don't know why Jasper has so much trouble reading your emotions, even I got that one." He laughs. "Do we have a deal?"

"I stay, you'll tell?"

"Yes. Definitely. Although I have a sub clause to add."

And up goes the eyebrow. Is it on a different circuit to the rest of me? Wired up wrong?

"Tai Chi lessons. With Jasper."

"No. I don't want . . . ."

"Really? I understand it's a great way of mastering inner calm. But if you don't want inner calm, or can't cope with Jasper, I suppose the story is not _that _interesting . . . ."

You _Asshole_.

His smile broadens.

Have I got an instruction manual tattooed on my back? Push button 'A' to produce desired result. Rolls over like dog when curiosity is tickled.

"Fine."

"Excellent. I'll tell Jasper when I get back shall I? Might as well start in the morning . . . ."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 21 Qi**

**BPOV**

Inner peace is very hard to find with Em around and for once it wasn't me A'hole got angry with.

Jeez, he's got a temper on him. With anyone else it would be funny but he's just so fucking scary, he exudes menace and he _looks_ like a killer.

And when he's over his shit fit he goes right back to being a beautiful angel. Never mind two faces, the man's got two personalities. Shame I can't warm to either of them . . . .

I almost regret not learning any Tai Chi the first time out. This shield thing is driving me mad. Now I know it's there I don't seem to be able to ignore it. It's like that last little piece of sticky film stuck to the screen of your new cell, sort of poking up in the corner of my field of vision whenever I'm doing something else.

In desperate need of a distraction I let Kate take me to the mall and grudgingly allow her to part me from some of my money. And I have to admit that it is nice to buy clothes that actually fit me, including a set of more feminine sweats that didn't used to belong to a line-backer. I also pick up a couple of books on Tai Chi, meditation and a few crackpot ideas in the same vein.

As we walk back to the car Kate makes a last attempt to entice me back to Denali.

"I will come. I promise. There's just some stuff I want to do first. Now that I know what I am I sort of feel the need to try the last three years out again, to prove I can do it better."

"I guess that makes sense." She sighs. "You don't mean the whole three years though, right?"

"Good god no." I laugh. "I want to go and soak up some sun, then just wander around for a bit. I think I've turned out to be a bit of a loner."

"As long as you're not lonely." She says with genuine concern in her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll call you the minute that looks like happening."

"You'd better. Maybe I can come down and wander with you a bit in a couple of months? I've never really done the nomad bit."

"That would be brilliant, wouldn't the others mind?"

"No. They all go mooching off from time to time, even the Cullens, forever's a long time to be together. Rose and Em live on their own sometimes too, albeit usually only an hour or so down the road. Irina will be back soon, I could come down then, we could meet in New York or something."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for a big city like that." I balk.

"You'll be fine." She chuckles. "You're a proper grown up vampire now Bella, you can go anywhere you want and do anything you want."

And I think she's right. Maybe I can . . . .

…..

Tanya, Kate and Carmen are going home today to open up the house, Eleazar is staying on for a couple more days to help with my sticky film issues. Carmen was sanguine about it, these things take time she said, and Eleazar will be like a bear with a sore head until he knows I've cracked it, besides the three of them are going on an almighty shopping spree on the way back, Tanya wants to completely remodel the house.

I've already said my goodbyes and expressed my heartfelt thanks then retreated into the backwoods with my new books. I'm not sure but I'm guessing grand emotional scenes aren't my thing.

I'm going to miss Kate but not forever and I rather like the idea of meeting her in New York. Now that does sound grown up.

It doesn't take long to read the first book.

Okay then, that all seems straightforward enough.

The Hand Form.

Relaxed natural breathing. Check.

Smooth gentle movements. Ah. I need to slow down. Human speed. Check.

Mind calm and focussed. I close my eyes. Focus, focus on being calm. I'm calm. Just like right after I've fed. Calm, calm, it didn't say anything about mantras being needed, calm, I am calm, calm . . . .

"Why isn't working?" I huff in disgust.

"Because you're doing it wrong."

Great.

Let me guess, Eleazar sent you to fetch me? Well sorry but I'm going to have to ignore you, I'm busy.

Mind calm and focussed. I can do this. No, no I can't. Not with his scent in my nose and his noxious presence prickling my skin.

With a sigh I stop my movements and open my eyes.

He's stood there staring at me with an expression on his still face I can't decipher.

Oh good, silent tension, that's got to help with the calm and focus.

"The movements have to precise, controlled, the idea is to get the Qi energy flowing smoothly through your body. Not to wave your arms around like a hippie on an acid trip until you fall over."

Thanks, I'll try that. You can go now.

"Like this." He says, stripping off his t-shirt and taking up an opening position.

Oh jesus help me. Just look at him . . . .

For lack of anything else to do, that doesn't involve the potential for drool to form, I start shadowing his movements. Might as well learn something, that's why I'm here . . . .

And soon I find myself totally absorbed.

"Keep going." He orders, coming to stand behind me.

"Keep your back straight." His hand rests on the small of my back and I jump forward automatically. "Focus."

Then it runs along my arm, correcting the movements and leaving behind traces of cold fire before gripping my bicep.

"Precise, not clenched. Relax."

I'm fucking trying!

He moves around in front of me and again I start shadowing him.

"Keep the movements smooth, they're too jerky."

And he steps forward lacing his fingers with mine, guiding my movements and pushing back so that I have to use my muscles differently.

Since his chest is practically in my face I can't help but look at the fine white lines crisscrossing his skin, not marble, scars. Where did he get all those scars?

"Concentrate."

I look up at him automatically and then find that I'm trapped and can't look away.

Slowly, like two clockwork toys winding down, we stop moving and stare at each other in a new but nevertheless still uncomfortable and miserable silence.

"That's enough for a first lesson." He says, releasing my eyes and hands and stepping away to put his t-shirt back on.

"Eleazar sent me to fetch you. I think he just wants to make sure you're going to be okay now Kate's gone. I'll see you back at the house."

And he's gone.

Leaving me alone in confused and frightened silence.

What just happened? And _why_ are my nipples sticking out like the Washington Monument?

…..

He's not in the house when I get back and I've never been so grateful for anything in my life.

Eleazar is indeed concerned about my welfare, that makes two of us, but he's also found something in one of Carlisle's more obscure books that he thinks might be pertinent to my gift. And that safely wiles away the next few hours. The bad news is now we need another gifted vampire to practise with and guess who that's going to be?

But not today.

Today Carlisle is letting me borrow the Volvo so I can get my new IDs sorted out, A'hole's set up the appointment and Carlisle wanted him to come with me. Which is why I'm leaving now before he gets back. See how considerate I am?

I haven't driven since I was a human and I make a jerky departure down the drive before I get to grips with everything.

As I sweep out onto the highway I'm once again gripped by a sensation of being grown up and in control.

Wow, this car is _fast_. And apparently driving like a maniac _is_ a vampire thing.

And pulling someone over for it is a cop thing.

My heart sinks as the cruiser pulls out onto the highway behind me with its lights on. Hiding behind an advertising hoarding is cheating if you want my opinion.

Obediently I pull over.

"Do you know how fast you were going miss?" The cop asks as he leans down to peer in my window.

Yes, precisely.

"Um, no. I'm sorry, I wasn't concentrating . . . ."

"Can I see your driver's licence please?"

"I don't have it with me. I'm sorry . . . ."

Winning smile, winning smile.

His eyes go slightly wide.

"Will you get out of the car please miss?"

With a sigh I climb out as A'hole's Viper pulls up behind us.

"I'm sorry Officer." He says, leaping out and rushing over. "It's my fault, we had an argument, I was a real asshole, and she ran away."

"I'm sorry baby." He adds as he gently takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

The cop eyes us both for a moment and then sighs heavily.

"You'd need to take better care of her son, she could have killed herself driving like that."

"I know sir. I'm very sorry."

"And you young lady. Next time he's an asshole you might want to think about busting his chops for it not endangering your life and everyone else's."

"Yes sir." I murmur suitably contrite.

"Alright. Get on the pair of you before I change my mind."

He saunters back to his cruiser and A'hole envelops me in a steely embrace, watching the cop leave over the top of my head.

I want to struggle away from him but I daren't.

"Get in the car and follow me home." He snarls. "You're not fucking safe to be out without supervision."

"I managed for three years." I growl back.

He pushes me away, hands on my shoulders as the cruiser disappears around the bend in the road up ahead.

The he releases me completely and walks back to his car, getting in and driving away.

Asshole.

And that was a stupid mistake to make.

Mad with myself I get back in the Volvo and continue on my way. Sticking to the speed limit with grim resolve.

I was expecting some seedy lawyer with a back street office but this place is a gleaming palace of glass and steel immediately making me feel small and scruffy.

Ah well, my cash is just as good.

The woman on the front desk clearly isn't of that opinion though as she eyes me with distaste.

"Can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Mr Sullivan. Bella McCarty." Em's letting me use his old last name.

Her eyebrow shoots up.

And I smile widely, leaning forward slightly.

I'm a vampire lady. Don't mess with me, I bite.

Flustered she lifts the phone on her desk and announces my arrival.

"Excellent Cathy, send her straight in please."

"Yes Mr Sullivan." Cathy answers eyeing me with even more distaste.

"Second door on the left."

Mr Sullivan is in his late twenties, sharply dressed and quite good looking if you like that whole suave businessman thing.

My casual attire doesn't seem to faze him and ogles me appreciatively from head to toe as he rounds his desk and offers his hand.

I shake it briefly before he can register the coolness.

"It's always a pleasure to meet an associate of Mr Hale's. I have the documents he ordered, I trust they will be in order. Please take a seat."

Obediently I sit and he retrieves a thick envelope from the bookshelf, passing it to me.

It all looks okay to me. Bella McCarty, from Boise Idaho, twenty one and three quarters. Driver's license, High School Diploma, Real Estate licenses, what the hell?

"That's everything Mr Hale requested." Mr Sullivan informs me, noting my frown.

"Yes thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"Mr Hale has already settled the bill and left instructions for me to bill him directly again should you require anything else in the future."

I open my mouth to object and then close it again. Whatever. It's his money.

"Thank you." I get to my feet and offer him my hand.

He shakes a little longer than necessary and he's definitely got that look in his eye, the catnip one.

And I'm tempted, briefly, what harm could one little date do?

But then I change my mind, withdrawing my hand and hustling us through the parting pleasantries so I can be gone.

Five minutes later I'm back in the Volvo and driving home to the Cullen's place. All I need now is a car of my own and I'm good to go. Maybe Rosalie, the family's automotive expert would come with me tomorrow, since I don't really know what I'm doing. I don't want to get stiffed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 22 Denial is Not a River in Egypt**

**BPOV**

The house is quiet as the grave when I get back.

And determined to take advantage of the now rare solitude I rush through a quick shower and stretch on a towel on the bed to air dry, listen to music and read a book. Trashy romance, because a girl cannot live on educational tomes alone.

However my thoughts keep straying to the lawyer. James, I saw it on some of the letters on his desk. I don't know if he's my type because I've never had one before, mom always said I was a late developer in that regard. But he _was_ attractive, fitted his suit well and had a nice rich voice.

Maybe I should have let him make a move on me, what harm would it have done?

Alright, quite a lot actually, he's a human and I'm a vampire and I have nothing like Kate's experience in that arena.

I wonder what it would have been like? The date, awkward I imagine, what with my utter lack of social graces. Would he have tried to kiss me? What would that have felt like, warm, hot, I suppose, his lips would be soft, but isn't that the idea? I wonder what I'd feel like to him, surely he'd notice how hard and cold I am. Yet Kate never has a problem . . . .

I wonder what it would feel like to have his warm fingers running over my body, would they feel different to mine?

Idly I run my fingers over my drying skin, letting them bump across my ribs and swirl around my hip bones. Am I too bony, I don't think I am, the guys with catnip issues always seemed happy with what they saw. Are my breasts too small, too big?

I wrap my hands over them, they're a bit too big for my hands, but in a man's hands . . . .

I circle my fingers around my nipples, feeling them stiffen under my touch, what would it feel like to have James's hands touch me like this?

To have them run down my abdomen and caress my inner thighs.

I sigh as I slide my finger into my damp folds. Would it feel so very different if it were James stroking me like this, if it were his hot wet mouth teasing my breast? His warm body moving against mine . . . .

I gasp as I imagine one of James's long fingers circling my clit, stimulating the nerves, causing my thighs to magically fall open . . . .

Mmm . . . .

And I'm so wrapped up in the sensations it doesn't seem to matter that after a while James's warm mouth and dark hair at my breast have been replaced by Jasper's cool lips and soft gold locks . . . .

**JPOV**

I'm waiting for her to come back from the meeting with Sullivan and I'm glad there's nobody at home to ask me why because I don't have a fucking clue. I just am.

And it's irritating me. Like everything else about her. I can't even concentrate on my fucking book in peace.

There's a little black cloud with her haughty face in it permanently hovering over my left shoulder.

I'm counting down the days until she leaves and I can get on with my life.

I'm tired of watching her like my own personal movie channel, doesn't matter whether I can actually see her not, my fucking brain carries on replaying the images long after she's gone. I don't like that I could trace out every curve of her body with my eyes shut. Or that I'm coming to understand the nuances of her body language even though I still know nothing about her.

She's not exactly talkative, barely engaging with anyone other than Kate, but I can see her behaviour starting to change around the others, particularly Em, she's becoming gradually less closed off.

With me she's uncommunicative to the point of insolence and I fucking hate that.

It's like she doesn't even see me half of the time and on the rare occasions she does I'm pretty sure she'd rather scratch her eyes out.

What I don't understand is why it bothers me so much. It's not like there's anything she's got to say to me that I want to hear.

I thought I'd killed her. Hell I _did_ kill her, she was dead. No pulse and no heartbeat. Not a drop of blood left to keep her heart beating while she changed. She's a walking, occasionally talking, impossibility. I don't want to hear about how she felt when she woke up, what she went through, how she came to realise that her life as she knew it was over. I can remember what that was like for me and I had Maria and her sisters there to, well look after me doesn't exactly cover it, but at least I _knew_ what was happening to me. I had _help_.

If I can imagine what it must have been like does it really prove anything if I have to sit and listen to it?

And apologising. I keep getting a random urge to tell her I'm sorry. Somehow I can't imagine it going down very well, too little too late Esme called it. And I can't see what good it would do me either. She'd still exist, Alice and Edward would still be dead and I'd still be a murdering asshole.

There isn't much an apology can mend in my experience. It never truly mended anything with Alice and god knows I had plenty to be apologising for . . . .

Carlisle and Esme feel strongly that I should be doing more to engage with her, that somehow her forgiveness for my mistake will help both of us move on.

But I've got nothing to move on from where Bella's concerned. She's a vampire. I fucked up somehow. End of story. She'll be gone soon and there are others wandering around out there who would very definitely hate me more than she does. And for better reasons . . . .

Still I have tried to be less obnoxious around her. With limited success admittedly. She really brings out the worst in me at me times, particularly when I don't want her to.

Like today. Why couldn't she just follow me home so we could go see Sullivan together like we were supposed to?

I didn't take her to see the lawyer and after last night there won't be any more Tai Chi lessons, not even with Em's irreverent presence, I'm not even gonna _permit_ my mind to start thinking about why _that_ is . . . .

How am I supposed to try to do what they think is right under these conditions . . . .

And suddenly all my senses are on red alert as Edward's Volvo storms up the drive.

Her seductive floral scent reaches me first. Why the hell can't she smell like gasoline or something equally unpleasant . . . .

"Empty." She sighs happily as she scurries through the house and up to her room.

Not quite darlin'.

I wonder if her shield has anything to do with the fact she sometimes seems to struggle to know when there's another vampire around? Even she can't be that oblivious surely, I'd better tell Eleazar, she'll need to work on that, it's practically a disability . . . .

In and out of the shower in minutes, she does everything so fast, like something's gonna come along and ruin it at any moment. Or like she's living in a war zone, I sure as shit know that feeling . . . .

Faintly I hear the hum of her iPod. Again with the cutting her senses off. Has she got some sort of death wish? I really ought to go down there and point out the error of her ways . . . .

Abruptly she sighs, pulling my attention back to her, like it ever gets a chance to stray very far . . . .

Her breathing, which I could only hear faintly, changes, becoming faster. What the . . . .

She moans quietly.

My brain might not yet have registered what's going on but my dick certainly has, growing uncomfortably hard in my pants.

Oh Christ. I bet that's a sight to see . . . .

I can just imagine her face, soft full lips parted, her titian hair spilling over her shoulders and across the pillow . . . .

I know her body so well visually, what I haven't seen my imagination is doing a fine job with . . . .

And I can all too easily see my hands taking over, stroking her soft silky skin . . . .

My tongue tasting it . . . .

Oh no you don't Whitlock!

That. Is. It.

I'm outta here.

**BPOV**

The problem with only one complete Tai Chi lesson is that it doesn't provide you with enough skill to stop you thinking about the one complete Tai Chi lesson.

Not that there's been another one. Since the incident on the highway I haven't even laid eyes on him.

I've worked with Eleazar. Hunted. Read. Sulked in trees and mucked about with Em. All very pleasant. But something has definitely been missing.

I've also bought a car. Nothing the Denalis or Cullens would be seen undead in but Rosalie assured me it would probably run forever and had 'presence'.

I'm not sure what she meant by that but I've chosen to consider it a good thing.

It looks incredibly forlorn on the Cullen's driveway, sandwiched in between their expensively sleeks cars, but that just makes me love it more. Like me it doesn't really belong here.

I think it may possibly be very sad that I'm a bit in love with my car and have already given it a name and a personality.

Two days to go before my promised talk with Carlisle and then all this will be over.

I wonder where _he_ is?

See, now, this is a problem. Is it possible to dislike someone so much you practically cease to function when they're not around?

Not that I haven't been thinking about him, that seems to have been all I _have_ been thinking about.

I know a little bit about his history, Kate told me, but nothing about how come he's covered in scars. I didn't even know vampires could get scars. And it's killing me that I'm almost tempted to ask him. Or at least I might be if he was even here.

Asshole.

I ought to be glad he isn't. I don't like him. He scares me and his complete disregard for me as a person hurts in ways I don't want to have to think about.

Which makes the rest of it even more galling.

I know he's attractive. Intellectually. I've got eyes, damn them.

But that is not the same thing as finding him attractive. How is it that just as I'm learning some control over my mind my stupid new body starts finding one of its own?

First the eyebrow, then the knee, now the girly parts. It isn't fair or even remotely logical.

And it's _really_ pissing me off.

Two days to go and I can get on with the rest of my life, Asshole free and happy.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 23 An Outbreak of Open Hostility**

**BPOV**

Esme and I are curled up on the couches watching a movie when the obvious question, you maybe had to be there, escapes me.

"Where did A-Jasper get all his scars?"

"Oh Bella. That's a very long story and probably one he should tell you himself . . . ."

Yes, but he isn't going to, is he?

"I told you didn't I, he had a very different start in this life to the rest of us?"

I nod as she sighs and shifts over to face me.

"I'm not sure my telling you anything will help. I know the basics but I'm afraid without interpretation they'll just make your feelings about him seem even more justified . . . ."

And?

"He's not the monster you think he is. He isn't even the monster _he_ thinks he is . . . ."

She loves him. Her son. I don't know what to with that knowledge. Either she's deluded, or I'm missing something . . . .

"Maria, his sire, was a Warlord. I'm guessing the others told you about The Southern Vampire Wars?"

"Eleazar did, vampires fighting for control of the blood supply. Kate told me A-Jasper was there at the time."

"He was. Bless him. Maria and her sisters changed him because what they really needed was some military expertise and he had that in spades. He was the youngest Major in the Confederate Army.

I don't know much about his first years. Only that he survived and that wasn't easy to do at the time. The armies were built on newborns, stronger and faster than a mature vampire but ruled by their instincts and emotions. It was common for them to be killed by their own side at the end of their first year, when they weren't _useful_ anymore.

Jasper was, so he survived. His emotional abilities probably enhanced his military know how. Added to that he's stronger and faster than any other vampire I know. Any of us know."

Robopire.

"It was part of his responsibilities to train and vet the newborns. Kill them when Maria didn't think they were worth keeping."

And he couldn't refuse, this Robopire?

"Maria and her war were all he knew. He thought he was in love with her, that he was doing the right thing, fighting for their survival. What any man would do."

I snort.

"She was just manipulating him." Esme sighs. "She never really loved him. The things she made him do . . . ."

Nobody makes us do anything Esme, we all have a choice.

"He kept Peter past his newborn year because he was a great second in command. I'm not sure how they came to be friends but they're more like brothers now. Peter fell in love with one of the newborns, Charlotte. Jasper didn't know, I guess I can understand why Peter kept it from him. He was about to kill her when Peter stopped him."

Really? A vampire who can read feelings couldn't recognise love? What depth of emotional incompetence do you need for that?

"Jasper could have killed them both but he didn't. He let them go. They went back for him a few years later, after they'd travelled, when they realised that the way they'd been sired and lived wasn't the only way.

Peter knew Jasper. Understood him in a way few others do. Cared enough to try to help him. I don't think it was all that easy.

You should probably look them up while you're travelling. They don't live quite like us but they're good people nevertheless."

"Not vegetarians?" I'm curious, the only vampires I know eat like me, though clearly A'hole falls off the wagon from time to time.

"No. Definitely not." Esme chuckles. "Pete describes them as a social service although Carlisle calls that a cop out . . . ."

Fictional vampires drink human blood. And most real ones do too, except there's no waking up in the morning with a sore neck and an iron deficiency.

I sigh. I'm sorry Esme, it's just words. I can't get past the fact that he's an asshole and apparently it isn't even a new development . . . .

Her eyes narrow as if she can read my thoughts.

"We're all born with diverse strengths Bella. What tests one of us breaks another. That doesn't make any one of us weak. Just different."

I squirm under her unwavering gaze, I guess I can see what Kate meant by her 'mom' thing.

"As for his scars. Vampire venom is the only thing that can mark us. Those lines, which he normally hides, are the marks that others have left on him during this life. You can make what you like of the fact that he's still standing, still trying. You've only ever had to fight you . . . ."

She registers that my mouth is hanging open slightly and turns back to the movie with a small smile on her face.

"I don't expect you to understand and accept him that easily. He's being a complete shit where you're concerned and it's totally unjustified. But I like to think that your strengths lie in areas where his don't. Carlisle changed me for love. Jasper changed you by accident. Maria changed him to use him, make a weapon out of him. Out of the three of us only I have any reason to be grateful for this existence. Yet."

Message received and understood?

Pass.

"I need to hunt." I murmur.

She nods, keeping her eyes on the screen.

I guess that's also an acceptable euphemism for 'I need to think'.

As I change into my new sweats I register his scent in the house and drop down to press my ear to the floor.

"Esme." He drawls. "What did you tell her all that for?"

"I didn't really tell her anything Jasper, you should do that, I've just given her something to think about."

"You want her to think about how everything she assumed about me is right or you want her to think about feeling sorry for me?" He sounds tired.

"I doubt she'll feel sorry for you Jasper." Esme chuckles. "In fact up until now I don't think she'd piss on you if you were on fire."

I stifle a snort of laughter. She's got that right . . . .

"Our world is not as safe as she thinks it is Jasper. I've heard you bawl out Em for not teaching her to fight well enough and warning Eleazar that her gift's sometimes interfering with her ability to sense what's going on around her. Why don't you help out by explaining to her why all that could be an issue, you know it better than any of the rest of us. She might understand you better too."

"I don't _want _her to understand me." He huffs.

And oh my god, he sounds like a spoilt little boy.

"Sometimes Jasper." Esme sighs. "I despair, I really do."

"_Esme_ . . . ."

"No, Jasper." Her voice is steely. "Don't start a charm offensive with me, I'm married to an expert. I get that her existence was a shock but you should be over that by now. I get that you've worked out that if you're unpleasant enough to her now then no one, including her, will have any expectations of you changing that in the future. I _get _that you think it will make your life easier. I _get_ that your default position is to sweep the stuff you can't deal with under the carpet and attempt to ignore it forever.

I know you know that's wrong. That's why you came home. And I'm _so_ happy that you did because I love you.

But Jasper this crap with Bella has got to stop. I know you think forgiveness is a crock of shit but you're wrong. Trust me."

"She's never going to . . . ."

"Forgive you for giving her this life? I think you'll be surprised. Forgive you for treating her like she doesn't deserve it, even though that's not how you feel? Your guess is as good as mine . . . ."

"Esme . . . ."

"She'll be gone in a couple of days, unfortunately, that doesn't give you much time . . . ."

He sighs and I hear him move away toward the stairs.

Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping I flit out the window and steal away into the night.

A couple of deer later I sprawl out on a rock to watch the stars, for the moment not having to think about anything.

But gradually A'hole creeps back into my thoughts.

There's a surprise.

Esme's right, she didn't really tell me anything, but it was enough to send thought trails roaring off in every direction.

He's a murderer and a monster . . . .

He's a soldier and a warrior . . . .

He wore a uniform and rode a horse, be still my . . . .

Someone 'killed' him deliberately, took his life away for their own selfish purposes . . . .

He had to fight for his identity _and_ his survival . . . .

Someone thought he was worth going back for, even after he'd tried to kill them . . . .

I don't want to feel sorry for him, that's just wrong . . . .

And Esme, what's she trying to tell me . . . .

"He's an asshole."

"Really? Is that the only insult you've got?"

If the cap fits.

"Haven't you got anything better to do than lay out here thinking about me?"

I've got plenty, I'm just not doing any of it right now.

He drops down beside me, making me jump, and stretching out with his hands laced behind his head.

Have you got no concept of personal space? Or being _unwelcome_ . . . .

"Did you enjoy learning about my life?" He asks nastily.

"No. It was a bit like getting a boring learning assignment in school."

One with all the juicy bits missing.

"I'm so sorry. Would you like me to SPICE IT UP FOR YOU?"

I shrug. Even my shoulders are on a different page to the rest of me it seems. He's really pissed Bella, now may not be a good time . . . .

"Do you know what? Fuck it!" I yell, surging to my feet. "And fuck you! You _are_ an asshole. A damn great big one. So you had a shitty life? Congratulations. You're not alone. I'm sure there's a fucking club somewhere you can join . . . ."

"You have no idea . . . ." He growls, peering up at me through those fucking stupid eyelashes. They're girl's eyelashes . . . .

"No. You're right. I don't. Because no one will explain it to me. Poor pathetic Bella, didn't even know she was a vampire. Can't cope with knowing what the rest of us know. Can't defend herself, can't even always tell when another vampire's coming, practically disabled, isn't that what you told Eleazar . . . ."

"I told you not to fucking spy on me!"

"I wouldn't if you lot didn't forget I exist every five minutes. If you don't want me to hear you then don't fucking talk about me when I'm around . . . ."

"We don't!"

Argh!

And.

Argh!

Turning on my heel I stomp away, no point running if he chooses to come after me, might as well maintain some dignity.

Sure enough his hand lands heavily on my shoulder, spinning me around to face him and nearly knocking me flat.

"Fine. You wanna know about my scars? Here!"

He shoves his sleeve up and my eyes are automatically drawn to the ragged white scar around his right arm, just above the elbow.

"Does it make you feel better to know that anything you could even imagine doing to me has either been done or tried already?" He growls, shoving the arm under my nose. "I got that one for refusing to kill a newborn. The kid was thirteen. She killed him anyway."

He pulls his shirt out of his jeans, carelessly ripping off most of the buttons which bounce away into the darkness.

"How about this one?" He demands angrily, tracing out a crescent mark in his side. "A couple of vampires ripped a chunk out of me when I went back for one of our guys who was in trouble."

I shake my head wordlessly.

"No? Nothing matches up with your mental image of me? I know." He laughs bitterly, ripping the shirt away completely and twisting around. "Get a load of this one, you'll really appreciate it. My only friend in the world gave me this when I was trying to kill his wife! Back in familiar territory now?"

We glare at each other.

"Did you really not know?" I ask finally in a small quiet voice.

"Did I really not know what?" He snaps.

"That they were in love?"

I flinch as his arm comes up but it's only to run his fingers through his hair.

"Living in the camps during the wars wasn't exactly a good place for an empath." He says surprisingly softly. "None of the emotions were positive. Hatred, fear, jealousy, lust. As soon as I started figuring out my gift I taught myself how to block it all. I'd have _really _gone crazy otherwise."

Oh.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 24 Escalation**

**BPOV**

At a loss for words I attempt the stomping away again, this time with more success.

I do not want to and will not think about it. It's not my problem. It's not my fault. And I still maintain, whatever happened in the past, it's his choice to be an asshole now.

But of course I do think about it. Try to imagine what it must have been like. Can't help but try to put myself in his shoes and wonder what sort of person I'd be now. Remind myself that nicer people have probably been through worse.

But what upsets me is that I'm sat up here in my room trying to understand _him_ when he won't even acknowledge what his actions have cost me.

That's not fair.

And now I sound like the spoilt toddler.

That man is really bringing out the worst in me, it will be so much better for both of us when I'm gone. But first I have to get through today's session of gift grappling with Eleazar . . . .

Downstairs he and A'hole are waiting for me. With barely repressed excitement and barely repressed resentment respectively.

I bet he just loves having to help me with this.

Eleazar indicates the space on the couch next to A'hole who visibly stiffens as I sit down.

Great.

"It might be easier to hold hands." Eleazar points out. "Physical contact often amplifies gifts . . . ."

With matching grimaces we extend our hands, just about managing to entwine a few fingers.

Eleazar stifles a smile.

"That will do." He says with a poker face. "Okay now Bella, we need to lift the shield, like we practised, and Jasper you need to be looking out for her emotions."

"Are you feeling anything?" A'hole asks with mock politeness.

"You bet I am." I answer brightly.

"Humph."

"They don't need to be strong emotions." Eleazar points out, suddenly looking worried.

"Oh don't worry." A'hole purrs. "I can take anything she's got to give."

Muttering about floodgates and dams Eleazar takes my other hand.

"Close your eyes Bella." He says quietly. "Just like we practised. Visualise your shield. Is it there?"

"U-huh."

"Good. Can you lift it?"

Up. Up. Up!

"No."

"Don't try too hard. Remember how it easy it seemed yesterday? Just relax, think about what's different and work around it."

A'hole.

Alright. He's not a natural candidate for access under my shield but if I will it to be so . . . .

"It's up."

"Excellent. Can you feel anything Jasper?"

"She's crushing my fingers."

"Can you feel her emotions?" Eleazar presses patiently.

"Nope."

You wish.

"Oh. She's angry. There's a surprise. Getting angrier too."

"That's hardly a shock Jasper, please try and focus."

"Now she's smug."

"Well done Bella. Jasper, can you project an emotion onto her?"

"Like what?"

"Anything, not anger or smugness though, it needs to be something she's not currently feeling."

"How about some lust?"

I growl.

"Are you doing it?" Eleazar asks after a short pause.

"Yes." A'hole grunts.

"Well it doesn't seem to be working." Eleazar observes dryly. "I've never seen a beautiful woman look less lusty."

I giggle and the shield snaps back into place.

"Eleazar this is a total waste of time." A'hole objects.

"Maybe you just can't rustle up a decent level of lust." I snicker.

"Not surprising where you're concerned." He snaps back.

"Thanks." I snarl. "You really know how to make a woman feel good about herself."

Eleazar rolls his eyes.

"I think I liked it better when you weren't speaking to each other." He sighs.

"I think." He continues after a moment. "That Bella's shield has two facets or layers. The one she can see and manipulate now and another underneath, like the last line of defence and possibly the more powerful."

"Is that the bit that sometimes blocks her registering us or us her?" A'hole asks.

"I believe so." Eleazar muses. "Your observations have been most intriguing Jasper . . . ."

And they're off . . . .

"Wow." I drawl sarcastically after a minute. "Does that mean it's working now?"

"Is what working?" Eleazar asks.

"The bit that makes people forget I exist and vice versa?"

"Oh. Yes. Probably. Jasper, I'm intrigued that it doesn't happen all the time though, she or _something_ must be able to influence it . . . ."

Okay.

I retreat inside myself as they waffle on.

I must be able to work it out, I've got perfect recall.

I'd be able to concentrate better if A'hole's fingers weren't burning my skin. Let go already.

Last line of defence. That makes sense, Eleazar has already explained that most vampire gifts have their origins in survival traits. I can see how not being noticed is useful, but not noticing a potential danger creeping up on me is the exact opposite.

I always knew my stupid brain was out to get me.

It nearly always A'hole who sneaks up on me, the others have done it to but not with such monotonous regularity.

Why is that?

Is he immune to my gift, Eleazar says that can happen too, but that can't be it, he doesn't always catch me by surprise.

"It's probably been coming in and out all the time without her realising, after all she didn't know she had a shield, it could be her emotions or a response to danger, for all we know a drop in temperature might cause it to change."

"Humans have never really noticed me unless I make them." I interrupt. "Except for one."

"Was there anything different about the one who did?"

Yes. He noticed me.

"Perhaps it does have something to do with emotions then." Eleazar muses. "You were alone and terrified, your default position would have been to protect yourself, by going unnoticed."

Beside me A'hole shifts uncomfortably.

What's up, numb butt?

"Okay." I reason. "But in all fairness the only vampire who really sneaks up on me is A-Jasper and he's the last one I want anywhere near me. None of the rest of you make a habit of it. The other guy I actually _liked_."

"Hmm." Eleazar hums, gazing down at our fingers, still locked together.

Realising I snatch my hand back and place it awkwardly on my lap.

"Perhaps they key here is what you want. You wanted the humans not to notice you, your differences, and you want Jasper to leave you alone."

"It doesn't work very well then does it." I huff.

"Actually I think it works very well. And could be strengthened over time. But it's not an invisibility cloak, more of a mental deflection which maybe isn't yet strong enough to 'distract' someone who is already focussed on you. Would you say, Jasper, that your attention is often unduly concerned with Bella a lot of the time?"

"No."

"Hmm. I still think I'm right. I think with practise it can be developed to be a more effective repellent . . . ."

"First we need to focus on getting her to manipulate it at will so she's not blundering around out there exposed and oblivious." A'hole interjects sternly.

"Yes, yes, of course Jasper. It should be easier this time, now she has a better idea what she's looking for."

The pair of them turn to me expectantly.

What?

Eleazar sighs.

"Try visualising a second layer to your shield."

Okay. I close my eyes, second skin, thicker maybe?

I nod.

"Alright, now lift the first one . . . . Jasper, her hand please."

A'hole grabs my hand and laces our fingers together, Tai Chi . . . .

"Is it up?"

I nod.

"Can you feel her?"

"Yes, surface stuff again. She's embarrassed about something."

I growl and he chuckles slightly. A deep rich sound.

"Can we _please_ concentrate? I might have eternity but I don't want to spend it trapped in here with you two comedians . . . ."

"Sorry Eleazar." We mutter in unison.

"Now then Bella. Focus on that second one, you need to lift it, you _want _to let Jasper feel more of your emotions, you _want_ him to be able to project onto you . . . ."

Alright, but purely for educational purposes.

Its heavier this layer, like a thick sheet of Perspex and much less pliable than the first one.

I kind of feel like I'm crawling underneath it and bench pressing it upwards but it _is_ going up. Slowly.

"Bella?" Eleazar asks quietly.

I nod again.

"Jasper, anything?"

"There's nothing, she's not feeling anything on the surface, probably because she's concentrating, but I think I'm getting a flavour of her deeper emotional state . . . ."

He shifts again, jostling me lightly on the couch like a wrapper on a ripple of water.

"That's good." He says abruptly. "She's definitely opening up to me."

"Fantastic. Bella, can you keep it there?"

I nod again, as long as I focus on it. But I can't help but be encouraged, my first lessons were like this and now I can flick the other one on and off more or less at will . . . .

"Alright. Let's try something else. Jasper can you project a new emotion?"

Immediately a wave of lust bursts over me like scalding water, making me gasp in somewhat happy surprise, ram my knees together and let go of both of my shields.

_Jesus Christ_. He'd make a fortune if he could bottle that . . . .

"Ahem." Eleazar coughs lightly. "That seemed to work."

It retreats as quickly as it came, leaving me uncomfortably warm all over and hyper aware of the nearness of his body and his masculine scent.

"Did you enjoy that?" A'hole asks solicitously.

I am _never_ going to answer that question.

I shift, still uncomfortable, and a waft of _me_ floats out into the room.

Eleazar coughs again.

Oh god I'm so embarrassed.

Beside me A'hole goes rigid and a muscle starts jumping in his cheek.

I try to tug my hand back but he won't release it, it's like he's turned to stone.

It's not personal, don't go getting any funny ideas, not even if you were the last man on earth.

He continues to sit there, staring ahead.

Now it's Eleazar's turn to shift uncomfortably.

Don't leave, oh god Eleazar, _please_ don't leave me alone with him.

It's your fault, I don't really want you that way, you started it. I don't, I don't, it was an accident.

Am I so hideous? Is the idea that I'm even accidentally attracted to you so repulsive?

What's wrong with me that you didn't care I wasn't dead and can't stand me now?

Choking back a sob I surge to my feet, yanking my hand painfully out of his and charging out of the house and away.

Running. I run and run and run.

Then, mentally exhausted, I curl up into a ball and let the sobs take me.

It's strangely comforting, human, now that I can supress my mind, for a little while. But eventually it wears off and my fucking brain starts working again.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly.

"That's new. For anything in particular?"

"I should have picked a less contentious emotion."

I snort in some parody of amusement.

"Really? That's it? You're sorry for temporarily tur . . . . You're sorry for _that_?"

"I embarrassed you."

Embarrassed, killed, whatever.

"I didn't mean to do that."

That's nice. Why did you then?

With a sigh I turn over and stretch out in the dirt.

"My mind is turning cartwheels. I have so much I need to think about right now. I don't have the capacity to spare analysing your random apology or what it means. Go away."

I don't even want to think about you. You confuse me and you hurt me. Why aren't you going away?

In silence he stretches out in the dirt next to me, our arms almost touching.

It's like lying next to a space heater as warmth spreads across my skin.

What, you're torturing me now?

"Why are you doing this?" I whimper. "I don't understand what you want from me . . . ."

"That makes two of us." He groans.

The silence stretches out, my thoughts flying faster and faster with no productive outcome . . . .

Why is he here? What does he want? Is he going to humiliate me some more?

I'm terrified he's going to touch me, appalled that he won't . . . .

"Why can't you just leave me alone? I'll be gone soon. I won't bother you anymore. I'm sorry. Sorry I'm not good enough for you, sorry I didn't die when I should have done, sorry about whatever it is that makes you want to deny my existence . . . ."

With a growl he rolls on top of me, trapping me against the ground, curling his long fingers into the hair behind my ears.

His weight on me is perversely welcome, electric, his huge body covering mine, enveloping it. It feels right somehow. But it isn't enough . . . .

"Really? Is that what you think?"

He rolls his hips into me.

Oh god, he's _hard_. It feels, _ungh_, I don't know how it feels, well I do but _ungh_ . . . .

"I know you _exist_ Bella. Can't you feel how much I know you _exist_?"

"Nuh."

"It's driving me crazy how much I know you exist."

The air around us feels thick, like breathable treacle.

"Does it help your ego to know I can't project an emotion I don't _feel_?" He growls as his dark eyes capture mine, holding them so I can't look away as he pivots his body into me again.

Ungh. My eyes roll into my head. What is this? What's happening to me? Why do I feel like I'm on fire?

Wet, oily, fire.

I need, _need_ like medicine . . . .


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 25 Perfect Mistake**

**BPOV**

Gradually his face comes closer until only his dark gold eyes fill my vision and our noses are touching, our lips almost so.

I hold my breath, poised on a knife edge between the unknown and the unimaginable.

And suddenly his fingers tighten in my hair and his hard mouth crashes into mine.

My reaction is immediate and disconcertingly vampiric.

My arms whip up, grabbing his hair and fastening us together to the best of my ability.

I open my mouth instinctively and his tongue plunges inside, battling briefly and victorious with mine, before mapping out the inner cartography with expert dominance.

One of his hands leaves my hair, travelling restlessly across any part of me he can reach, gently squeezing, feeling, learning. Grabbing my thigh and lifting it, pulling it tighter against our undulating bodies. Reaching down to cup my butt and hitch the leg higher.

I can almost feel his fingers touching my skin through the denim. Damn stupid jeans.

One by one I absently observe my higher brain functions going out like stars dying in the sky until there's only him, his body, his mouth, his tongue, his hands and his scent. And I don't miss them, those pesky thoughts that make me miserable, good riddance.

My own hands dare to leave his hair, doing a little exploring and grabbing of their own. His muscles, beneath his tight t-shirt, feel amazing. Hard and sculpted but sensuous and fluid when they move. I love the muscle in his forearm, the feel of it clenching and releasing as he holds my leg in place and massages the softer flesh of my butt. And I love the feel of his long fingers kneading that soft flesh.

And just when I think I can't stand it any longer his mouth travels down, nibbling at my jawline and the side of my neck, leaving me gasping and rolling my body up into him. Biting gently as it travels on down, his hair tickling my goose bump skin.

With a soft growl his lips move my shirt aside, lips tracing out over my collar bones, tongue flicking out to taste them. My back arches again and his hand travels around from my hair to lie across my throat, fingers gently massaging the side of my neck.

His mouth travels lower and I moan in need and pleasure as it ghosts across the swell of my breasts.

And it isn't enough. I arch into him again, trying to get his lips and teeth to my aching nipples.

With a low dirty chuckle he slides his hand down between us, deftly flicking the buttons open and parting my shirt, sliding his hand inside to gently cup my breast, which my body happily pushes up into his hand.

He trails around the mound gently, tracing his fingers lightly around the straining peak, before tweaking it sharply between his fingers.

I gasp in amazed surprise as pleasure and electricity shoot through me and he chuckles again, withdrawing his hand and replacing it with his warm wet mouth.

Oh dear god, it's so good it's almost unbearable.

Lazily he releases my butt and reaches up sliding my shirt down my shoulders, trapping my arms at my sides and exposing my other breast to the air and his deftly questing fingers.

When his mouth starts kissing downward I almost complain, despite the hand that replaces it, but the pleasure continues as he works his way down. Dipping his tongue in and out of the dents between my ribs, circling it around my belly and flicking it teasingly along the skin above the waistband of my jeans.

Still kissing my pebbly flesh he moves his hands down to undo the buttons of my jeans, shimmying them down over my hips and onto my thighs.

Cupping my butt again with both hands he lifts me slightly, pressing his nose against my pubic bone and humming happily, the vibrations releasing a flood of warm sticky wetness from between my thighs. Only this time there's no embarrassment. I want him to know what he's doing to me. I want him to keep doing it. I don't want it to ever stop.

With blurring speed he surges back up my body, somehow managing to get his lips to every part of it on the way _and_ remove his t-shirt, before capturing mine in another searing kiss.

The feel of his skin, moving against mine is incredible and instinctively I reach up, ripping my shirt, to trace the planes of his perfect chest with my fingers. He shivers and growls into my mouth, deepening the kiss and literally curling my toes.

Obligingly he holds himself up on one arm, his free hand resting on my cheek, thumb caressing my jaw, allowing in me to explore his exposed upper body at will.

My hands wander lower, seeking and finding his hard length, making him hiss and kiss me impossibly harder as I trace it though the fabric of jeans.

I want to touch it, feel it in my hand so badly, I've no idea why, that's probably what the higher brain functions are for . . . .

Tentatively I unbutton his jeans, releasing it to spring free into my waiting hand.

It's so smooth and hard. Like silk over steel.

I run my fingers over and around it and he releases my lips, groaning and mouthing into my neck. Pushing it into my hand and pulling it back so that it's sliding through my light grip. There's wetness at the tip which slowly spreads over my fingers and down his shaft as we move together. It feels big and I'm glad in some strange way.

I want it inside me, I need to feel it inside me . . . .

As if he can read my mind he strips away the rest of our closes, still managing to kiss and nip at my skin.

And finally we're both naked. His hard body covering mine again as he rears up on his arms, breathing hard.

As he leans in for another kiss one of his hands slides down my body, around my outer thigh and on down to wrap around the back of my knee. He lifts it gently, caressing the underside, his hard slick cock resting against the other.

With maddening sloth it works its way round until it's lightly stroking the soft skin on the inside, fingers tracing circles as they make their way higher and higher.

Another wanton moan escapes me and again my body makes its requirements known, arching up off the ground in invitation.

With another low dirty chuckle he frees my gasping mouth and transfers his attention to the column of my throat, one long finger sliding into the folds between my legs which part magically like the red sea.

"Oh god, _Jasper_." I pant, writhing underneath him.

He slips another finger into the folds finding my clit and pressing on it with small but firm strokes.

My body arches off the ground again and one of his fingers slides inside me, thrusting gently in and out. The feel of it is maddening, even the warm wet sound is like an aphrodisiac and I want more, need more . . . .

"You're so wet." He groans, capturing my face between his hands and laying another toe curling kiss on me as his cock settles between my thighs. "So ready for me. Do you want me Bella, do you want me inside you?"

"Yes. Oh god, _yes_."

Reaching down he grips himself, pushing his tip gently against my entrance until I growl quietly and thrust my hips at him.

With a matching growl of his own he shoves himself all the way inside me in one long powerful drive and I freeze in shock. His tip hits my cervix as he fills me completely, stretching me wide in a way I wasn't ready for, hadn't imagined . . . .

Oh god, I'm impaled and I inhale sharply in panic and discomfort.

At once he stops moving too, his domineering kiss becoming lighter and gentler, his tongue softly caressing the inside of my mouth.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry, I didn't know." He whispers raggedly as he trails open mouthed kisses out to my earlobe and back to my parted lips, slipping his tongue back inside my mouth.

As the urgency of our kiss increases so does my pleasure and excitement and in no time at all the same whirlpool of need and desire that got me into this predicament has me writhing against him again, gasping at the feel of his hard length flexing inside me in response.

And he begins to move, slowly, gliding a little way out and then smoothly back in, all the way in. And oh god the feelings, the sensations, its indescribable.

It's so, it's so . . . .

Ungh!

I throw my head back, breaking away from our kiss, curling and digging my fingers into his shoulders in time with his thrusts. His stronger, faster, thrusts. Trying to hold myself against him so I don't get swept away but whatever the hell this is . . . . I'd hate to be swept away from this . . . .

His mouth follows my head back, wandering wetly over my face, randomly attempting to recapture my silently moving lips, flirting with my stretched taut neck . . . .

And still he drives into me harder and stronger.

Sparks of electricity are starting to shoot out from my molten core, forced out by each fill and retreat. And he's finding it even harder to capture my lips as my head begins to thrash from side to side.

"Bella . . . . Oh god, _Bella_ . . . ."

Something is building in me, every inrush he makes, every slip sliding contact of our smooth stone skin, every graze of his teeth, touch of his lips, every one of his harsh pants coming in time with my own. I feel like I should recognise it, know it, but another sensation will grab my fractured attention and send it skipping away again . . . .

And darkness is gathering in my head, filling it with the same pressure rising in my body, in my muscles, coming from deep within me . . . .

Jasper, Jasper, _please_, oh _please_ don't stop . . . .

Shifting slightly he slips his hand between us, rubbing my frighteningly sensitive flesh with sure strokes.

And immediately the building pressure skyrockets, tension setting my limbs quivering, blackness rushing into my head until it feels like it's going to explode.

Then it does explode. In a million pinpoints of blinding light. My whole body clenching and releasing as I cum in wave after juddering wave. A low scream stealing away into the night.

With a shout of his own his rhythm falters, my muscles in spasm, luring out his own orgasm, his mouth slanting over mine in one last desperate uncontrolled kiss as he throbs and cums inside me, his spurting seed re-igniting my over sensitized nerves with agonising yet pleasurable aftershocks.

His hands cup my face again as he showers it with soft kisses and unintelligible words, his movements gradually slowing with the retreating shockwaves until our bodies are pressed together and still, our faces buried in each other's hair, our breathing returning to normal.

And my brain, its blissfully quiet, not a thought trail in evidence.

But oh god that was amazing. I shudder with an echo of the intense pleasure. I want to feel that again. I want him to make me feel like that again . . . . .

HOLY SHIT!

My eyes fly open.

What have I done? Oh fuck what have I _done_?

He stirs, his razor sharp teeth dragging at the skin on my neck and my body responds automatically as his cock twitches and starts to grow hard inside me again.

Lifting himself up slightly he takes a playful nip at my skin, right where he bit me all those years ago and reality re-asserts itself as I shove him away from me, surging to my feet and trying to cover my nakedness with my discarded clothes.

Laughing he rolls away, sprawling in the grass in all his naked glory. And he _is_ glorious.

"I can't read your emotions." He drawls. "But I'm guessing that's some serious post coital regret you've got going on there. Was I that much of a disappointment?"

I'd rain abuse down on his ludicrously beautiful head but it wouldn't do any good. My traitorous body is giving me away anyway, I want him again, already . . . .

"Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?" He asks casually, rolling onto his front and staring up at me.

"Would it have made any difference if I did?" I spit.

He looks me up and down speculatively for a moment and then smirks.

God you _fucking_ asshole. What have I done?

His semen is trickling down my leg, refusing to let me stop thinking about it, any of it.

He's taken everything from me now. Well alright, he didn't take my virginity, I practically threw it at him, but still . . . .

I back up a couple of steps, ramming my knees together.

When I go back to the house everyone will know what we did. What I did. What a _stupid_ fucking idiot I am.

Oh hell, it's not like I can stay here anyway, be anywhere near him. Not now and I should have left the moment he showed his two faces.

All my higher brain functions have returned and they're in raging overdrive, demanding action.

"Fuck you!" I snarl, elaborating with the appropriate hand gesture as I whirl away to escape into the night.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 26 She's Gone**

**JPOV**

Lying on the ground I listen to her footfalls as she runs away, she's quieter than she used to be.

I've really done it this time.

I changed her into a vampire without even realising. Left her alone to wander her old world for years with no idea what she was and no one to explain the terrifying reality to her. When she finally gets a break it turns out to be with _my_ family. And what did I do? I turned on her as fast as I could. I punished her for being living proof of yet another one of my mistakes, for adding herself to my long list of reasons for self-hatred just when I'd resolved to start whittling it down. I did everything I could short of violence to get her to leave and I nearly even did that.

Well I guess I succeeded this time, I seriously doubt she'll be there when I get back.

I avoided getting to know her as much as I could, in case I actually started feeling sorry for her and because her quiet gaze always made my skin crawl with unwelcome self awareness.

And then I avoided her, well I avoided her because of what just happened.

Today I got_ the_ glimpse into her underlying emotions that I absolutely didn't want, felt her loneliness and sense of isolation from everyone and everything.

And what did I do, armed with that fresh understanding?

I fucked her.

Took something else away from her I can't give back.

And I couldn't even do that with charm and good grace.

Her horror at what she'd done was like a slap in the face, and my reaction totally unacceptable, no matter how much hers stung.

If she didn't hate me before I suppose I've sealed the deal now.

Of course. It's not too late to apologise, explain. Not for me, that's not going to change anything, but for her, maybe if she at least knows why I've been the way I have, if she knows it isn't her, never was, that I just am _that_ asshole . . . .

Instantly I'm on my feet, pulling on my clothes and attempting to run at the same time, with limited success, cannoning off trees and boulders. Impelled to at least try to do something right by her . . . .

The little British racing green mini cooper is missing from the driveway, the scent of it's over rich mixture already gone from the air.

Carlisle is sitting at the bottom of the front steps, elbows on his knees, chin resting in his hands.

"She's gone." He says quietly.

I nod.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." He continues. "Your efforts appear to have been successful."

With a sigh I plop down next to him, mirroring his position.

"It's a shame you didn't work out earlier that having sex with her would be more effective than trying to bully her out of your life." He observes with level sarcasm. "Would have saved both of you quite a lot of unnecessary stress I would have thought."

My mouth opens and closes but not words come out.

"Esme is livid and Rosalie has taken Em off to vent his feelings on an extended hunting trip, he was quite fond of Bella, had a lot less trouble expressing it than some people though."

"I am _not_ fond of her." I object.

"Of course not, after all you hardly knew her, did you?" And again with the sarcasm.

"Was she upset?" I hate myself for asking.

"You'll have to ask Esme. She called me but I didn't get back until after Bella had left."

"Why didn't anyone stop her?"

"This is a family, not a prison camp. And if anyone were going to do that, or try to persuade her to come back, I think it would have to be you."

"She'll light my ass on fire." I admit, in an unaccountably miserable tone.

"You really didn't think any of this through, did you son?" He chuckles, getting to his feet and patting me lightly on the shoulder. "Apparently she's heading south, looking for some sun. I don't blame her, I feel like I need another vacation myself."

And with that he wanders into the house.

...

Day one passes well enough, considering something keeps prickling at the skin on the back of my neck like insects scrabbling on it, and Esme is pissed with a capital P. Eleazar makes his goodbyes, packs his stuff and hot foots it home to Carmen.

Day two is better. I get some stuff done. Decide which college course I'm going to enrol on in the fall. Tinker with the Viper's engine. Suck up to Esme by helping her out with yard work. She's still pissed but apparently Kate has spoken to Bella and she seems okay.

Day three Em gets back. He's not stingy with his words when he tells me what he thinks of me, though for once and thankfully, we didn't actually get into a fist fight over it. I think he was disappointed, he doesn't seem to mind how many times I beat the crap out of him, he always believes he'll win next time. Rose was more precise, 'You suck Whitlock'. I'm not allowed to be a Hale when I'm in her bad books.

It's odd, they've never really lashed out at me for my selfishness before, or is that I just never cared enough to notice?

Day four and I finally have to admit that her absence has not magically fixed everything in my life. Nor has it had any effect on the amount of time I spend thinking about her, which is basically all of it. And that's not remotely frustrating. Not at all.

Days five and six are filled with distractions. In the spirit of conciliation I take Em bear hunting, Rose clothes shopping, Esme plant shopping and Carlisle's turn at doing the family's tax returns.

On day seven Em relents and takes me out clubbing, as he puts it I'm a man with a man's needs and a little bit of slap and tickle might temporarily wipe the scowl off my face. We have a great night teasing the humans and finding increasing outlandish places to stash our drinks, but there was no one there to tempt me. Leaving aside the blood they don't smell right, look right or feel right and so my slap remains untickled.

On day eight I find one of her Tai Chi books in the backwoods, carefully tucked into a protective tree branch, as if she's coming back for it later.

Idly I flip through it, who wrote this shit, no wonder she was crap at it. How anyone could it get so wrong and look so amazing doing it I don't know . . . .

On day nine Bella's cop stops me for speeding. This time I'm forced to continue the previous lie by telling him she's left me and even though I push the happies at him as hard as I can the fucker still gives me a ticket, in fact all I did was dramatically increase his enjoyment of the experience.

On day ten I get a bill from Sullivan for four new identities and it dawns on me that she's thinking about disappearing completely. Not that she can, he's under strict instructions to send me copies of everything he does for her.

And on day eleven I admit defeat and seek out the woman kind enough to call herself my mother.

...

"I need help." I begin carefully as we settle ourselves into a booth with our lattes.

Only Esme could hear me say that without showing any hint of reaction whatsoever, her emotions are another thing though, hope and relief.

Alright Whitlock, you've never been afraid of anything in your life, you can do this.

The only problem is I don't know where to start.

"Bella . . . ."

"Yes?"

"I can't stop thinking about her." There, it's out.

"A guilty conscience can be a very powerful thing." She observes, seemingly unsurprised.

"I would have thought I've got worse things to feel guilty about." I huff.

"Possibly. We've been over that before Jasper. All of those things, there were extenuating circumstances and it was war. This situation with Bella is a lot more personal. You've met her, started to get to know her, whether you wanted to or not, she exists for you in a way those other people don't."

I wince at the word exist but counter anyway.

"What about the things I put Pete and Char through? He's my brother." I can't bring myself to mention Alice, not yet and not now.

"Do you still feel guilty about all of that?"

I nod. I wish I could take it all back, all the trouble I caused them when they were only trying to help me and I do think about it, but nothing like the way I keep obsessively going over my brief time with Bella.

"Jasper, Peter knows you're sorry and he knows what you were going through, he knew how hard it would be from the beginning but he went back for you anyway. And you know that too."

I nod again. We're on the same page Pete and I.

"I think the difference is that the three of you shared common ground in the first place and you talked it through, understood each other's view points, how the whole experience affected you. You didn't do that with Bella. Jasper you barely addressed a civil word to her the whole time she was with us."

I sigh. And do I regret that? Yes, I think I do, I could have handled the whole situation so much better. All I needed to do was be honest, she might still have hated me but at least she probably wouldn't be out in the big bad world on her own again.

Internally I fight the urge to confess, I'm in enough trouble with Esme already, but in the end I cave under her patient gaze.

"I felt her emotional state, when we were working with Eleazar. Her real one, not the one she shows the rest of us."

"I can't imagine she's actually very happy." Esme sighs.

I shake my head.

"I would imagine she's still terribly lonely and afraid?"

I nod.

"Oh Jasper, how could you sleep with her after that? What were you thinking? You must have known what would happen when she realised what she'd done, you may not have known she was a virgin but even you could tell how emotionally fragile she is . . . ."

I hang my head, torturing myself vaguely with the god awful stench of milk. Why the hell don't we ever order it black?

I don't know what to say. I _wanted_ her, I _needed_ her, in a way that frankly scares the crap out of me . . . .

After a minute she sighs heavily.

"You'd better drive me home, I'm feeling a little aggressive toward you again."

"Yes ma'am."

I follow her rigid back as she leads the way back to the car and with plenty to think about I decide not to tell her the rest of what's been bothering me. That's just a man thing, primal and instinctive, not personal. I probably just need to get laid, to demote the memory of her soft voice moaning my name to the back of my mind . . . .


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 27 A Goal in Mind**

**BPOV**

I stop just outside Clarkesville, Tennessee and immediately a flaw in my plan emerges. Sweet-Knees is not going to make out into the wilderness where I would normally make a camp.

The car's name makes me smile. One of Charlie's deputies used to call me that when I was a gangly pre-teen. The mini is small and awkward and looks like it's about to morph into something new and unknown so it just fit somehow.

Still the problem remains, Sweet-Knees is not an off roader.

Oh well, I'm not sure I want to go back to living in a mud hut, I've got some cash left, I'll get a cheap motel room. And a job if I'm suddenly too good for my former lifestyle.

I've no experience picking motels and this one seems to be less than salubrious but since the cockroaches can't bite me and the clientele can only assault me at their peril I guess it will do.

Feeling very grown up I unpack my stuff and take my laptop off with me to look for a diner and then a job.

The fact that the diner also has a job going on the night shift just seems like fate to me. Not even kitchen slaving. Actual waitressing. Get me.

I reckon two weeks work should do it and I can be on my way again, the motel is _that _cheap . . . .

Satisfied I take an hour or two to explore the city, picking out a few places to visit tomorrow if the weather is suitably unsunny.

Then I sneak out of town, looking for somewhere quiet to hunt, there are an awful lot of campgrounds in the parks around here. An awful lot.

Because I have to be a lot more careful here, I know from bitter experience what happens if you start hunting and animal and then catch a whiff of human, this takes up another few hours.

Replete I make myself a little fire, I've an hour or two more of darkness and plenty of time to get back, intending to enjoy some much needed peace and quiet.

"Aaahh . . . ." I sigh, stretching out with my hands behind my head. "_Bliss_."

…..

The work turns out to be easy, the patrons and staff friendly.

But being around humans all the time again takes a bit of getting used to again. I haven't been tempted to drain any of them but the pain and longing is back. Too bad I can't rationalise the medicine anymore . . . .

They still forget I'm there half the time but I've been practising with my shield and I do _like_ going largely unnoticed.

Especially when I have so much to think about.

I was kind of rationing myself, letting my thoughts go wild for twenty minutes, and then clamping down on them again like an oppressive regime.

But now I've stopped running and stopped planning that's getting harder and harder to do.

I don't regret running but I'm glad I didn't do it initially, I learnt a lot, some of it stuff I didn't realise I needed. But it came at one hell of a price.

When they told me what I was, how I'd come to be, I'd constructed a nice little romantic scenario in which some terrible tragedy prevented my sire coming back for me. Bastard turned out to be alive and well.

The funny thing is that's not what really gets me going.

Accidents happen, I know, I had sex with _him_.

I _hate_ that I'm nothing more to him than something to lavish his disdain on and bury his dick in.

And I _hate_ that that hurts me. I shouldn't be hurt. I should be fucking furious.

I am angry, but I suspect that's more because I let him hurt me than what he actually did. I guess that might not make sense but mom used to say people can only hurt you with your permission. How I need my mom right now, Kate's great but it's not the same. Although I'm not sure what she'd make of her only daughter having meaningless, but great, sex with a man she didn't like and knew didn't respect her. She might even have told me off . . . .

Although maybe not, if she'd seen him and I had the nerve to tell her it was great . . . .

Conflicted thy name is Bella.

Honestly I've only had sex once in my entire life and already it's practically all I can think about. Who knew I'd turn out to be such a slut?

But it's better than thinking about the other stuff, way better. The rest of its all there, pinging around my brain like the bullet in Freak on a Leash, but though I can't stop it I can kind of ignore it. But it's not easy.

Not easy at all.

And from time to time the bullet ploughs into something painful or uncomfortable, splitting it and spilling the contents into the open. Those are bad times . . . .

…..

Done with Clarksville I move on. In search of somewhere I can soak up that sun without sparking, or sparkling, a national alert. I'm pushing my luck, there aren't going to be herds of deer where I'm heading but I'm sure I can handle it, I'm not a newborn. And besides mentally I feel stronger in that regard. Now I know what I am and what I want it suddenly seems more imperative that I don't give into it. I don't want to be _that_ monster and so I'm cautiously optimistic.

But first I _have_ to stop in Memphis.

…..

On the first night I engross myself in Beale Street.

Now _that_ is people watching.

Lifting my shield, even though I haven't scented any vampires, I wander through the crowds and will myself to enjoy the experience.

And I do.

On the second night I repeat it. And now I've found that by playing with my shield large groups of people will accept me into their midst without question, they don't care that if they think about it they won't know who the hell I am, I'm just there and part of the fun. Of course the amount they've drunk helps and people sure do drink a lot on Beale Street.

And I love BB King's and the blues!

I also had a lot of fun following the pickpockets and giving them the vampire equivalent of the evil eye. Cheeky fuckers, these people are just trying to have some well-earned fun, who are you to spoil it?

Sun Studios, it would be rude not to, is a little more difficult to crack since it isn't open at night and the sun keeps on shining during the day.

Eventually I have to admit defeat and break in. Easy for a vampire that CCTV can't register, thank you Em, those lessons are invaluable.

Sneaking around without a guide takes some of the fun out of it, but not much. I've been and that's enough.

In fact I like Memphis so much I'm tempted to stay and get a job for a bit.

But I can't lie out in the sun here and that's what I had in mind, my panacea, a spot of simple sunbathing. Just like I used to do in Phoenix . . . .

…..

When you sparkle and don't own and island getting to sunbathe is a lot harder than it sounds. Going to the beach is completely out of the equation and a few miles south of Memphis I stop again, finding a quiet town and a night job, while I ponder the options. East or West?

There are so many factors to consider. I'm not sure how far I need to be away from civilisation to not create a light show that will end up in the National Enquirer so I'm erring on the side of caution, although I will take clothing akin to a Burka with me just to be on the safe side. Also, despite researching on the inter-web I'm not totally happy with my dining options, I don't want to get over thirsty and slip up. I'll just have to fill up here before I go and plan for a short stay.

In the meantime I resolve to take care of a few basic requirements. Methodically I set up bank accounts for all the IDs I have. Then just to be on the safe side I get Sullivan to set me up with a few more, let Asshole pay and lets not worry if that makes me a prostitute, that's just semantics . . . .

Jesus how I wish he'd just stay the hell out of my head.

Next I need to find somewhere safe for Sweet-Knees. Long stay parking but it means I'll have to go into a big city and use up some of my precautionary eating and will power. I'll need to try if I'm ever going to live amongst humans like the Denalis and Cullens and I'll have to start somewhere. Besides it will be good practise for meeting Kate in New York, I'm not going to get much to eat there either. I just wish it didn't all have to be so hard, if only I could grab a burger like a normal person. Although I could probably carry some small animals around with me for emergency snacking . . . .

…..

Well that was a disaster. The smaller they are the less appealing their smell and taste. And they're prone to escaping, their instincts about me more honed than larger prey. If you saw the girl in town with squirrels and rats escaping her backpack, be glad she ate before it happened . . . .

…..

So I crave my sun. What am I going to do? Jacksonville, Florida or Rocksprings, Texas?

In the end it's my past that decides me. Charlie was always fond of a classic black and white western and I was always a sucker for the hero in a white hat. Texas it is. I'm not sure I've the nerve to tackle an alligator, even if I am indestructible, it's something about the teeth. Really big, pointy teeth, I'm sure Em would be disappointed with me . . . .

…..

With Sweet-Knees safely stored in San Antonio I decide to stay for the night.

There are vampires here I realise immediately, recognising the sickly sweet tang to the smell.

I'm kind of done with vampires right now so I skirt around the more recent scent trails, intent on exploring the city like any tourist.

And with a couple of hours until daylight I take myself off toward Rocksprings.

Tomorrow I'm going to lie out in the sun . . . .

…..

Pushing myself hard I make my way as far from civilisation as I can, swerving and amending my course whenever I detect the presence, past or present, of humans. Eventually finding a dry, sheltered canyon, of the kind the bad guys used to hang out in.

With a sigh of relief I strip out of my clothes and lie out on the rock, waiting for the sun to warm us . . . .

The faded yellow rock warms quicker than I do, a cold spot lingering under my back as it does, my special skin shooting rays of light at the canyon walls, the occasional stray darting into the sky to be overcome by the might of the sun. But eventually it starts to happen, my skin gradually absorbing the heat from the furnace overhead and it's wonderful in ways I didn't expect. I always feel normal now I'm dead, like I'm living in a permanently climate controlled environment, but for the sun to warm my diamond faceted skin is, well it's unbelievable. I'm so glad I set my mind to do this . . . .

My newly identified special treat. Now I just need to save up for an island or small country and the airfare to get there . . . .

It's not right to say that it makes me feel alive, if I were I'd have been in sunburn territory by mid-morning, but to feel anything other than _normal_, well that's special.

But as the sun retreats I start to realise that I've achieved an objective with nothing further in mind. I sunbathed. I loved it. I can do it again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that, then what?

Then what? Then I'll have to find something else to do with my eternity. My rosy idyll of having a job, an apartment, friends, a relationship. They're all looking a bit tatty in relation to the almost military campaign I had to launch just to do something simple like sunbathe . . . .

Ah. Crash and burn. Very familiar territory.

The sun sets and its heat rapidly leaves my impervious body.

Pensive I get dressed and head back to the city.

…..

In San Antonio a new reality dawns. There are a lot more vampire scents here now. And they're all fresh . . . .

Wanting to be alone, and afraid not to be, I make my way back to Sweet-Knees carefully . . . .


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 28 Gate Crashing**

**BPOV**

Lifting my inner shield and growling quietly at the effort I hurry toward the underground garage where I left the car and even with my lack of experience it isn't long before I realise that something is very wrong here in San Antonio.

I haven't seen a single vampire but I can hear them around me. Shouting, running and the tell-tale crash of stone bodies coming together in a fight. The humans seem to be completely oblivious, most of the sounds out of their range of hearing, but they do glance up from time and comment to each other about the thunder rolling overhead.

Quickly I make my way down from street level, paying my dues and flinging myself into Sweet-Knees, intent on getting out of the city as fast as possible.

After a brief internal debate I let my shield back down, being an unobservable entity seems like the best option right now.

And it works nearly all the way out to the interstate when a minivan comes out of nowhere and shoves me off the road and spinning into the brush.

Instantly I'm out of poor Sweet-Knees and getting ready to voice my indignation at the occupants but the two kids in it are wasted beyond any kind of coherence.

Fucking brilliant.

Undecided I hop from foot to foot, I want justice for my car which is looking very forlorn, but I don't want to wait here for the cops and I do _not_ want to get caught up in whatever is going on down here.

The kids are climbing out of the van, shaking their heads to clear them and peering at me in consternation.

"Hey lady, where the fuck did you come from?" One of them demands.

Down the road numb nuts, are you blind?

Growling again I yank my backpack from the passenger seat and start walking away.

"Lady! We gotta exchange insurance or some shit."

I flick my hand and keep walking. Even car ownership seems too complicated for me right now.

"Aw man, Seth. My mom's gonna rip me a new one . . . . Hey dude, watch where you're going, am I fucking invisible or something . . . ."

The growl he gets in response causes me to glance back.

Vampire.

Ignoring the two kids he comes after me, walking quickly and purposefully.

Crap. I'm not feeling real sociable right now.

I walk faster.

He walks faster.

Behind us the kids are bickering about who's going to call their mom and own up to totalling the car. How soon can I run, would they even notice now? I doubt it, they're not exactly the sharpest tools in the box at the moment.

And while I'm still thinking about it the vampire behind me breaks into a run.

Decided I take off like a scalded cat.

Its eerie being chased through the dark in silence, it lends it a whole other patina of 'wrong' to the experience. Even our feet barely make any sound, so fast are we moving and so light are our footsteps. It's also frightening not to know why you're being chased, who's chasing you and what they'll do if the catch you. Somehow I don't think he wants to sell me a souvenir.

I don't know what to do, he doesn't seem to be gaining one me, which may or may not be deliberate. In theory we could run like this forever. On the other hand do I really want to risk him catching me out in the middle of nowhere? I'd probably be better off doubling back to civilisation, the only problem is, back the way I came there seems to be some sort of fight in progress.

Oh god! All I wanted was to sunbathe, was that really too much to ask? Apparently, yes.

Unconsciously I'm running parallel to the highway, just out of range of the car lights. I could flag someone down I suppose but it's risky, my pursuer might have no compunction about murdering innocent humans in order to get his hands on me.

Reluctantly I swerve away and head out into the wide open spaces, back toward Rocksprings, there's nowhere to hide out here but there aren't many people either.

I haven't eaten since before Memphis and running on fear is setting my throat on fire.

"Why are you following me?" I howl in despair after a half hour or so.

"Why are you running?"

"Because you're chasing me."

I slow slightly. He slows too.

"I'll stop if you stop." He says after a couple more miles.

"You stop first."

We run on.

"Alright." He says and abruptly his footfalls cease.

I stop more slowly, turning to face him but still walking carefully backwards.

He looks a couple of years older than me, with black medium length hair curling over his ears and at the nape of his neck, his build is similar to Carlisle's, long and lean. His eyes are dark red, fringed with long black lashes. Clearly there's no such thing as an ugly vampire.

I stop moving.

"You're an animal drinker." He observes in surprise. "I didn't realise they had any animal drinkers."

"They?"

"The Mexicans."

"I'm not Mexican. I'm from Phoenix."

He narrows his eyes and frowns slightly.

"I thought you were one of them. Who _are_ you here with?"

"Just me." I wave my tatty backpack at him as if it will explain things. "I'm travelling, I wanted some sun."

"You came down here on your own? Are you scouting?"

Does he mean boy scouts? Do I look like a boy scout, dib dib and whatever?

"Sunbathing."

"You came down here to sunbathe?" He asks as if it's the craziest thing he's ever heard.

I shrug lightly. It's not sounding like the best plan in the world at the moment admittedly.

"I'm not sure if I believe you in light of the fact there's a battle raging behind us in the city." He says finally, eyes narrowing again.

I'm at a loss for what to say to convince him, maybe I should just start running again? Cautiously I take a step back.

"My name's Cornell." He offers suddenly.

"Bella."

He smiles slightly.

"I'm not sure I believe your story Bella but you're not much use to the Mexicans running around out here. And I'm no help to my side. I ought to get back."

I nod encouragingly.

"I'm not sure what to do with _you_ though."

Leaving me to get out of here as fast as my legs will carry me would be good. I'd certainly appreciate it.

"I should probably take you back. Just in case."

No, sorry, not feeling remotely sociable.

Cautiously I take another step back.

And this time he steps after me.

I take another, he follows suit.

Great, a very slow motion, stalemate.

"There are others coming." He says suddenly, stopping and cocking his head to one side.

I freeze. I can hear running feet too, lots of them.

"They're not mine, no one knows I'm out here. Rescuing you or after me do you think?"

Again I shrug and he glances over his shoulder.

And I'm away and gone, feet flying so fast they barely touch the ground.

A volley of shouts erupt behind me, the sound of stone bodies crashing together and the ground shakes slightly underfoot. There's vicious snarling and screeching, it sounds like a dog fight. Then more shouting and more running feet as the fight spills out in all directions, I don't think the battle is confined to the city anymore.

The night is clear and still and despite my flight the sounds still carry quite clearly over the open ground.

Someone's coming after me. Fast. And someone's coming after them.

My fear spikes. If he thought I was with the other side then it's entirely possible the other side will think that too, as in I'm on his side. And that can't be good . . . .

With some relief I reach the range of canyons and gullies I was in this morning and now I should probably think about hiding, maybe I could even make use of my shield, get them to forget about me. But the damn fight seems to be following me and in here the sound travels strangely through the ripples and depressions in the land. Now it sounds like it's all around me and I'm in the middle of it.

Not wanting to blunder into someone I slow and try to relax, focus in on what's going on around me. I don't know what to do with my shield, down and they might just pass me by, up and at least I'll have a better idea who is around. God I wish Eleazar were here to ask. I don't know what to do . . . .

I slow even more feeling like I'm in a maze with an unseen monster stalking me. Decided I let my shield down and will it to be thicker and stronger somehow, even if they can smell me I don't want them to think about me, I want to be ignored. I want to be ignored . . . .

Gradually the noise of the fight quietens but I can still catch the occasional sound of vampires moving around carefully.

Obsessively I think about increasing the strength of my shield, visualising extra layers going on like lacquer. The only problem is I don't know if it's working . . . .

"They're in here somewhere." A voice whispers somewhere above me and I freeze like a cartoon character, foot poised in mid-air.

"How many are left?" Another voice responds.

"I don't know." The first speaker admits.

"Fuck."

Don't notice me, don't notice me. Please.

"Do you recognise the scent of the vamp he met out here?" One of the voices asks after a moment.

"No but we'd better find her too, he might have passed her something we need, maybe called in re-enforcements."

"Fuck. The boss will have a fit if this goes wrong after all this planning."

Mexicans? They don't sound very Mexican.

"Alright." The first voice concludes. "Get the others to spread out around the edge of this area as best they can, maybe we can catch 'em on the way out. No sense chasing 'em through here and getting picked off one by one."

And as if to confirm his assessment a piercing scream rends the air somewhere over to the east of us.

"Fuck!" The both curse in unison heading in that direction.

A new fight breaks out over that way and I use the cover of the noise to creep further into the gully in search of a nice little hiding place, still focussing on re-enforcing my shield since it seems to be working. Of course I've forgotten the drawback in doing that as I back around a corner and bump into a stone whose arms close around me immediately, trapping me and covering my mouth to stifle the scream.

Once more I freeze.

"Nice to see you again Bella." Cornell whispers in my ear. "You really should look where you're going."

"Umph."

"Keep quiet." He points out needlessly as he releases me and turns me to face him.

No problem.

Another fight breaks out a few hundred yards away and again vampires are drawn to it from every direction.

"This must be worse than I thought if _he's_ here." He whispers, his lips brushing my ear.

He?

"So I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt Bella, since you'd be a singularly inept spy."

Thanks, I think.

"We need a diversion and hopefully some of my coven are still out there. The next time a scuffle breaks out we're going to run for it, opposite directions, hopefully there won't be enough of them left to chase both of us, at the very least they'll have to spilt up and I think there's only four or five left."

My brave eyebrow shoots up, it doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. And four or five, is he nuts?

"If we stay here they're going to flush us out or find us eventually." He points out reasonably. "All they have to do is track our scents and ring us in, they'll figure that out soon enough."

I watch his eyes, they look sincere.

"Once you're out in the open head north and don't stop. You're fast, they won't catch you. They won't follow you much further north in case the Abilene Coven are waiting for them, especially not now we've split their force."

Jesus he might as well be talking Chinese for all I understand.

"What about you?"

"I have allies I can go to. I've already got word out, they'll be waiting." He looks at me expectantly.

Reluctantly I nod. What else can I do? I don't want to stay here and be 'found'. And I've a suspicion it wouldn't be good to be found with him.

Another shout goes up.

"Wait." He whispers, turning me around and pointing me in the direction I need to go.

Again running feet head toward the noise, shouting instructions and apparently wading in.

"Now!" Cornell urges, giving me a little shove.

Immediately I spring away, sprinting down the gully as it opens out into a broad flat space.

"There she is!" Someone shouts.

Oh fuck. Already?

I risk a glance back as three vampires drop down from the gully walls and charge after me.

"Don't let her get away!"

Cursing my luck I keep running, I've no other option now.

And for a few miles I think that maybe this is going to work but then I realise that another vampire is coming in from the left, cutting off my route north and with a sinking heart I veer away.

My shield isn't working anymore either, my pursuers are all focussed on me and I'm guessing there's no way I could deflect them now, not even if I had time to think about it. Instead I will it up, wanting to have as information as possible.

Which is when I notice the air up ahead is heavy with the scent of the forest after rain and my skin prickles.

Asshole.

Somehow not surprised after a day like today, I hurl myself up an incline and over the edge into a huge natural bowl lined with stiff grass and the odd gnarly shrub or rock. I passed through here this morning . . . .

And there, in front of me, arms folded across his chest and looking supremely pissed off, is the orifice in question. Wearing low slung jeans, a white t-shirt, cowboy boots and a black Stetson, tipped low over his eyes.

"Run!" I yell as I launch myself down the slope.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 29 Reality Check**

**BPOV**

"Get behind me!" He orders in a voice that brooks no argument.

Are you crazy? What are you going to do, frighten them away with your dazzling lack of personality?

Nevertheless it doesn't even occur to me to refuse and I duck round, peering out past his bicep.

Four vampires crest the rise and the leader crashes to a stop with one barrelling into him and the other two just barely managing to avoid the same indignity.

A'hole chuckles quietly.

"Major." The leader greets him, nodding his head almost respectfully.

"Neville."

Neville, seriously? What kind of name is that for a big scary vampire?

"I'm very surprised to see you here." Neville offers after a pause.

A'hole shrugs.

The three other vampires, small, medium and large respectively are looking a little confused. Like me I imagine, this is not at all what _I _was expecting to happen . . . .

I can almost see the questions marching through Neville's head but he seems very reluctant to ask them and after a while A'hole sighs in excessive patience.

"Can I _help_ you with anything Neville?"

Before Neville can answer another vampire joins them on top of the rise.

"What's going on Nev?" He demands, impatiently surveying our odd little gathering.

"I was just . . . ."

The newcomer doesn't appear to be one of those people who waits for answers from his subordinates.

"Who are you?" He snaps at A'hole.

"Name's Whitlock."

"Is she yours?" Newcomer questions, jerking his chin at me.

"She is."

"What's she doing running around down here?"

"Proving that intelligence in vampires is not hereditary."

Ah, how sweet, I've missed you too . . . .

"Why was she meeting with Cornell?" Newcomer demands.

"That's a very good question." A'hole drawls. "Bella?"

"I wasn't meeting with him, he chased _me_."

Newcomer snorts and A'hole smiles slightly at the indignation in my tone.

"Are we done?" He asks in a bored voice. "Bella and I have a plane to catch."

"Not anymore you don't." Newcomer informs him, turning away. "Nev, bring them!"

"Um . . . ."

"What's the problem?" Newcomer snarls. "Cornell got away and we need to get back pronto. Stop fucking about and come on."

Shaking his head Neville backs away from Newcomer a couple of steps.

"Stay here." A'hole growls, shoving his hat into my hands and moving forward to join him.

"You're a fucking traitor now Nev?" Newcomer gasps in surprise as Small, Medium and Large gather round him and the two sides face off against each other.

"Nope. I've just been looking for an excuse to retire is all. This is probably the best chance I'll get."

"A pretty wanna be cowboy and his bint?" Newcomer laughs nastily. Small, Medium and Large smirk. "Doesn't sound like much of a long term plan."

Bint? Oh buddy, beware the eyebrow . . . .

"He ain't a cowboy." Neville responds with a laugh of his own. "He's a Major."

Almost twenty one years old, three years a murdering monster working in bars and clubs with some of the less peaceable elements of human society, but nothing has prepared me for this. Not even close. The sudden violence is shocking and barely comprehensible but at least I understand the screeching noises I've been hearing. It's the sound of vampire flesh being torn, metallic and high pitched, it would set my teeth on edge if were still possible.

My mouth is hanging open. I can feel the chill on my tongue. It's cold out here at night.

My eyes are tracking Jasper but I'm still aware of what's going on around him. Vampire. Super computer processing skills.

I duck when something flies toward me. Dodge when struggling figures threaten to flatten me. Scream when Medium jumps on him from behind and tries to rip his head off. Sigh in relief when his elbow snaps Medium's sternum emphatically in two. Gasp when the apparently inappropriately named Neville _actually_ rips someone's head off.

And when it's over I sink to my knees, hugging myself against the sudden silence, while my stupid brain tries and fails to process what it's seen.

There's no blood, I know there won't be but still, the carnage? It's somehow very wrong that the bowl isn't festooned in gore. Instead there are gobs of clear yet effervescent goo clinging to the grass, shrubs and rocks. Venom? It smells like sulphur. But sweeter . . . .

Body parts are everywhere. So easily recognisable. It's like someone's launched a fatwa against mannequins, leaving the dismembered parts to make their political point. Except they aren't mannequins. They're people, vampire people. And the scattered chunks aren't silent, still, or made of plastic like a giant doll. The lumps pulsate, like a heart is still pumping blood through them. The limbs twitch and writhe. They _move_. Trying to rejoin what they've been severed from? It seems like, but that's just, it's just . . . . There's a torso or two, they breathe, stumps where limbs were once attached jerking spasmodically. The disembodied heads are, well, they'll turn a stomach that doesn't really exist. At first they can almost talk, they make sounds. But then they go silent. But the lips still move, the tongues, the eyes. The eyes still blink, they're still expressive, with intelligence behind them. Trying to communicate . . . .

Oh Jesus. Jesus Christ. I can't . . . .

There's a severed forearm in front of me. On its back? The fingers of this one are clutching reflexively at the sky yet elsewhere they're working like tiny legs, dragging the forearm through the scratchy grass. Unfortunately I remember biology. I can identify the skin, the fat, the muscles, the tendons, the bones, the nerves, the empty hollowed out veins, like straws in a glass on the diner counter . . . .

I can't faint. But right now I can't do anything else either.

In front of my unfocussed vision A'hole and Head Ripping Neville start piling up the parts. But is doesn't seem to be for re-assembly. It's more like they're mixing up jigsaw pieces. Right head, right torso? Remove the torso and transfer to another a pile. They sniff each one carefully to be sure. The bits rustle, slither and click together. Divesting themselves of any torn clothing they've retained as they stir restlessly . . . .

Head Ripping Neville produces a lighter from his back pocket.

"Fire?" He asks A'hole.

"No." A'hole's voice is firm. "No fire. Let them sort themselves out or wait to be rescued."

HRN doesn't look convinced.

"You're not coming after us, are you boys?" A'hole asks the various parts cheerfully, toeing one pile gently with his boot.

"Are you sure?" HRN's still got his lighter out.

"It's always a risk Neville but if you're going to carry on killing you might as well start your own coven like Cornell. If you really want to retire, start as you mean to go on, show a little mercy. Just don't plan on coming back down here again any century soon."

"Why did _you_?" HRN asks curiously.

"I had to." A'hole answers, reaching down and hauling me to my feet. "And now I'm leaving again. Rapidly."

"I'd better go too."

"Somewhere in mind?"

"North and then Europe maybe. I'd like to travel. Reckon I'll avoid sunbathing though."

"I would. It doesn't seem to be very safe. Pete's in Montana. Look him up if you've a mind to, he'll be friendly enough."

"Thanks."

"De nada. Come on Bella. We really do have a plane to catch."

Still clutching my elbow he propels me across the bowl and up the other side. I've a mind to object, pull away from him, but I don't seem to have it in me at the moment.

HRN flees in the other direction.

A'hole releases me as we break into a run and for a moment I consider heading in the opposite direction but the overlaying miasma of my thoughts keeps me running along beside him.

Four hours later the sun is coming up and we stop in the shelter of some trees beside a huge lake.

Careless of his presence I sit down at the water's edge trailing my fingers lightly through it, watching the little waves roll away. I don't know what's wrong with me, I feel disjointed, disconnected. My vampire brain is in my skull somewhere, presumably whirring away as usual, but it seems to have shut me out. I ought to be happy about it, aren't I always looking for ways to subdue it? But I don't like it, it's uncomfortable . . . .

He sits down beside me, gathering a pile of stones.

"Are you alright?" He asks eventually.

No.

He sighs, he probably thinks I'm being difficult, and I'd like to be. But I don't have _that_ in me at the moment either.

The sun is fully up now and it's quite beautiful here. Probably just as well, we won't be going anywhere until the sun sets, unless a huge black cloud magically appears.

He flips a stone, skimming it perfectly across the flat surface of the water.

"You're probably in shock." He observes.

Really, do you think? I've been running in fear all night, chased by people I don't know for reasons I don't understand, witnessed a massacre and ended the experience in the sole company of the one I ran down here to get away from in the first place.

Idly I pick up a stone and attempt to emulate his skim.

It sinks.

The sun climbs higher in the sky.

"Vampire's don't get shock." I mumble.

"You've got a mind, you just won't get the physical symptoms, although you do look a little pale. When was the last time you ate?"

Three years ago, I had a bag of pretzels on the plane to Port Angeles. They were dry and stuck in my throat.

"Couple of days ago."

"Do you want me to get you something?"

Not pretzels.

Expertly he skims another stone.

There are boats on the lake now, way off in the distance, with fishermen in them like mini derricks. Warm, tasty, fisherman.

"I need to hunt." I mutter fretfully and my anxiety spikes.

"I can get you something." He offers again.

"Sun's shining."

"You don't get to be my age without learning a trick or two . . . ."

I look at him for the first time.

"I'll need your shirt."

That's really not much of a chat up line, you know that, right?

"To wrap around my head." He adds.

With a huge sigh I take it off and hand it to him.

"Will you be able to resist till I get back?" He asks, flicking his eyes out at the fisherman on the lake.

"How long?"

"Ten minutes tops, there are loads of deer around here, they breed them for hunting."

"Where are we?"

"Breckenridge."

Look around you genius, there's no snow.

"Yes."

With a nod he wraps my shirt around his head and tucks his arms inside his t-shirt.

You look ridiculous, you do know that?

And then he's gone.

God I'm really thirsty. I could swim out to that nearest boat and pull it under without anyone noticing and before the occupants have any chance to scream . . . .

Ah, diabolical brain's started working again I see . . . .

I think Asshole may have just saved my life. And I think I'm pleased about it. I've only just found out what I am, had my eyes opened to the possibilities, it would be a waste of a bad experience to have it all wiped out now.

But how and why did he save me? Ideas ping off in every direction, like the stones I'm still trying to skim. Unfortunately, like the stones, they all sink into the deep dark abyss. I've no clue, which means I'm going to have to ask. Lovely.

And. What the hell just happened?

How could anything so violent and destructive be so beautiful? It was like a ballet. But not one penned by a human. And it wasn't exactly set to music. More the soundtrack of immortal pain. It disgusted and frightened me. Is this the reality of being a vampire? Three years off, one day on? Or have I just been extraordinarily lucky? Kate and Eleazar, hell even Em, spoke of having to fight for their survival on more than one occasion and A'hole's history, well . . . .

Let's not even go there. That is the one thing I _absolutely_ refuse to think about.

But on fresh consideration maybe I should get my sparkly butt up off this beach and get out of here before he comes back . . . .

Oh right. He's got my shirt.

Nightfall then. And not a moment later.

Oh god, I couldn't skim a stone if my life depended on it, how hard can it be? Its just math, trajectory or some shit . . . .

My life. I have one. Not a great one. But I'm alive and surely that means it has the capacity to get better. Isn't that essence of life?

Metaphorically my next stone sinks like a stone.

Ah, shit . . . .

A stag lands in my lap.

Still alive, how did he manage that?

No matter. Bella's gone. She's feeding . . . .


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 30 Lakeside Views**

**BPOV**

Because I'm a vampire blood restores sanity.

And with it the less forgiving parts of my personality.

You may have saved my life. You may have just fed me. But you're still an asshole.

A damn great big one.

"Better?" He asks as I push the drained carcass away from me.

Here, have your hat back, I'd forgotten I'd got it.

He shoves it back on his head without comment. Man and hat. So comfortable together. For some reason that really pisses me off.

I want answers to my questions, all of them, and even though I've yet to open my mouth I'm already angry about the fact that I'll have to talk to him and the suspicion that I won't get answers anyway.

Perhaps I need to cool off a bit first.

"Will I sparkle underneath the water?"

"No."

Good.

Kicking off what's left of my shoes after all that running I shimmy across the stones and slide into the water, wiggling down the slope until it swallows me completely and I float free.

I've not swum much since I was a newborn, not a particularly happy memory, but I've done it enough to learn how much air to keep in my lungs for neutral buoyancy.

Weightless I hang in the water watching him sitting there, Rodin's Thinker in a cowboy hat, momentarily stung by how beautiful he is and how little I know him.

Argh!

Not about to cool off any time soon I stand up and wade out of the water. Wordlessly he hands me my shirt and I put it back on.

"Why are you here?" I demand.

"Sun's shining. I can't go anywhere else until nightfall." He drawls sarcastically, picking up a stone and skimming it casually across the water.

Alright maybe I asked for that. Let's try something else.

"Sorry. I mean, why are you down in here in Texas, I thought it wasn't safe for you down here."

He skims another stone before answering.

"You do listen to some of what I say then? It's a pity you missed the bit about how it's dangerous for any unaffiliated vampire down here. We wouldn't be having this conversation then."

Grrr.

"Do you have to be so unpleasant?" I snap.

He doesn't respond. There's a surprise.

We both duck back into the shadows as a boat roars past, music blaring, occupants wiggling energetically in their seats.

With a sigh I settle back against the trunk of a tree and close my eyes. Clearly we're always going to bring out the worst in each other and should probably resolve to stay on opposite sides of the continent at all times. And I absolutely will not allow myself to feel any sadness about it. Yeah, I'm looking at _you_, thought trail, you know that shit's not allowed.

Resigned I try to concentrate on planning the next stage of my journey, nearly jumping out of my skin when he suddenly starts talking.

"I was tracking your movements when I realised you were heading down here. Pete had told me recently there was trouble brewing again. You don't have a cell and Kate didn't know exactly where you were so I came down to check on you myself. I was following your scent trail from the morning when I heard the fight break out."

There's so much wrong with that statement I don't even know where to start.

He's tracking me? What am I, a fucking FedEx parcel? Is there a barcode stuck to my butt? Unwanted property of J Hale, Whitlock, whatever.

"You're angry." He observes dryly.

How very empathic of you.

"Will you please talk to me?"

"Oh yeah, because it always works out so well when I do!"

"Better out than in." He says with a small smile.

Grandma Swan used to say that. She was talking about flatulence, but still . . . .

"At least open your eyes and look at me."

They pop open without my permission but loyally they refuse to alight on him.

He sighs in frustration and slumps down against the tree next to mine.

"Why?" I ask eventually.

"I know you're angry with me and I guess you have a right to be but it's really hard to try and change things if you won't even look at me."

Now it's my turn to sigh in frustration.

"No. I meant why have you been tracking me. Or were you so pleased to be shot of me you thought you'd better check I wasn't coming back?"

"If that were the case I would hardly be sat . . . ."

"Will you just answer the damn question?"

"Why did I track you?"

Yes, and you insult _my_ intelligence . . . .

"Do I have to answer that?"

I close my eyes again and for good measure bang my head lightly against the tree a time or two.

"I don't know." He sounds confused and a little unhappy.

My eyes snap open again.

"Honestly. I don't know. I asked Sullivan to give me copies of everything he did for you, that's sort of standard procedure, as to why I used them to track you . . . . I don't know. I just did."

How did you create a vampire without knowing? I don't know. I just did. How many faces has he got? Charismatic. Sexy. Scary. Unpleasant. Innocently bemused. Or is he just playing me?

"And you followed me down here _why_ exactly?"

"It's dangerous down here."

Yes, we've done that bit . . . .

"I would have felt bad, if anything happened to you . . . ."

Of course, it's possible one of the others might have been annoyed enough to tell him off. Not that I understand why that bothers him, he's not exactly the sensitive type and besides if he'd found out anything happened to me he could just not tell them, they'd never know the difference.

I hate that I feel like I'm always trying to work him out, why the hell would I even _care_ what passes for a thought trail in _his_ head? I'm having enough trouble with my own.

"Thank you, for saving me." I manage eventually, even if it does sound stiff and not particularly grateful.

"It was the least I could do."

I snort and close my eyes again.

Maybe, while he's in a less assholey mode I should risk asking him a few more questions? No. I don't want anything else to think about where he's concerned.

"We need to be ready to leave as soon it starts to get dark, just in case someone's coming after us."

Instantly a trickle of fear runs down my spine and my eyes open again, this time seeking him out deliberately.

"Will they?" Now that didn't sound weak and girly, not at all.

"I doubt it." He says seriously. "But caution costs nothing and once we get to the airport they'll never be able to find us."

I was planning on making a run for it the second it got dark, now I'm not so sure, danger and I don't seem to be comfortable bedfellows. But then again A'hole and I aren't exactly that either. Although he'd certainly be a good person to be around in the event of an outbreak of danger. Is this what they mean about being stuck between a rock and hard place? And how nice am I that I might actually choose to stick with him for a while longer just to save my scrawny neck?

"You're taking me with you?" I ask carefully.

"I wasn't planning on a half assed rescue." He says with a small smile. "I was hoping at the very least you'd have enough of a sense of self-preservation to come back up north with me, well out of the way of trouble."

Yes. I would appear to have that.

I nod.

"I've never been on a plane as a vampire, what if I get, um, hungry?"

"There'll only be us on it." He says, tipping the hat down over his eyes and sinking further down his tree until he's almost horizontal.

With nothing else to do I permit myself two full minutes to admire him, from an aesthetic point of view, and then I go back to worrying. Now that I know they might follow us I'm itching to be away from here and I winch up my shield, just in case they've done an A'hole with their clothes and are creeping up on us right now.

My throat is humming with insistent heat and I should probably have something else to eat before I go anywhere near people, I never normally let myself get this thirsty because it's an undeniable reminder of what I am now, not to mention a prelude to disaster.

I could really do with a distraction for my thoughts, its torture having to sit here, trapped by the sun when I've so much I want to avoid thinking about.

The seconds tick slowly by. How can he relax like that? Is there some secret off button no one's telling me about?

"You sure fidget a lot for a vampire." He drawls.

"I'm not used to be trapped like this, not when there's so much going on."

"There's nothing going on." He points out reasonably.

That's the problem.

"I can't relax." I admit after another thirty seven minutes.

"It gets easier as you get older."

Thanks, that was very helpful.

With a huff he sits up.

"You're getting better with your shield." He observes.

"What?"

"I can feel how wound up you're getting."

Oh. I'd forgotten he could do that when my shield's up but despite not being happy about him sucking up my feelings I'm too scared to drop it back down.

"I need to do something." I fret. "I don't think I can sit here much longer."

"Let me help you." He offers in a low voice, leaning toward me.

God he's got a sexy voice when he's not being nasty . . . .

Appalled at my instinctive response to his offer I slam my shield back down and immediately start putting out thought trails like wildfires. What the fucking hell is wrong with me?

Asshole that he is, he starts laughing.

"I meant, if you don't object, I could influence your emotions, calm you down."

"No thank you." I snap, equal parts mortified and furious.

He fucking did that deliberately.

Still laughing he tilts his hat forward again and slumps back down.

Haha. You won't be laughing when I push your evil ass out of that plane at thirty thousand feet.

And such happy thoughts keep me occupied until the sun completes its journey across the sky.

"How are we getting to the airport?" I ask, the nanosecond it's gone.

"I stashed a motorcycle at one of the empty lodges further down the lake. Unless there's someone following you closely they'll quickly lose your scent if you're not actually touching anything you pass."

Nodding, extremely happy to be doing something, I follow him into the lake, swimming parallel to the shore until a small lodge comes into view through the trees.

The motorcycle is sleek and shiny but the drawback is obvious, I'm going to have to touch him.

"How long will it take us to get to the airport?"

"Couple of hours." He replies, wheeling it out onto the blacktop, settling astride it and starting the engine.

"Hop on." He says, patting the seat behind him with a knowing smile.

"You're an asshole." I snarl.

"Yeah, well, when there's a war going on you need to find the biggest one around and stick to him like glue."

"Fine." I mutter, swinging up onto the bike behind him and holding my body away from his stiffly.

Laughing quietly to himself he twists the throttle and we roar off down the road, the sudden acceleration nearly tipping me off the back.

"You'd better hold on to me."

I'd rather not thanks.

"I won't hurt myself if I fall off." I point out.

"No, but you'll leave an ass shaped scent marker, do you want them to follow us?"

Alright.

I curl my index fingers into his belt loops.

And he laughs again.

He's a nice laugh. For an asshole.


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 31 Grand Theft Airplane**

**BPOV**

It's not exactly the kind of airport I was expecting.

It's completely dark, everything shuttered and locked. Small planes parked this way and that along the edge of the runway.

There are plenty of human scents left over from the day but no sign of anyone actually on site as A'hole cuts the engine and coasts the bike to a stop under a tree by the chain link fence.

Easily we leap the barrier and flit across the grass to the planes.

"Which one's yours?"

"None of 'em." He mutters, wandering along the disorganised line and scrutinising each one carefully.

"We're stealing one?" I gasp, trailing along behind him like a little dog.

"Yep."

Three apparently good planes later he finds one he likes and satisfied he kicks the tires. What does that even prove? That they're rubber not concrete?

"Wait here while I get the keys and some other stuff from the hangar."

And off he trots. It's amazing how a good fight and the prospect of some major larceny have improved his disposition. Maybe he shouldn't try living the quiet life all the time if it isn't really making him happy. But then again this is A'hole we're talking about, who knows what makes him happy?

I don't think I can carry on calling him that, not that it doesn't sum him up perfectly, but it probably isn't helping, positive mental attitude and all that.

Jeez it really gets cold out here at night, there's a light wind, rustling the stiff leaves that pass for grass in these parts, the sound reminds me uncomfortably of slithering vampire parts. I force myself to try to relax. I can hear A-J, him, rootling around in the hangar and muttering under his breath. I can hear the cars whizzing by on the interstate and I can hear the quiet hum of life going about its business in Breckenridge. I can smell it all too, over the cloying scent of gas that permeates the airfield, but I can't smell anything dangerous and undead except us and I've got my shield up again just to be sure.

I'm just starting to wonder how you land a stolen plane at another airport when A-J, _he_, reappears carrying two parachutes.

Oh no, we are _not_ . . . .

"Found these." He says waving the large bags at me in case I haven't noticed. "Much better than going bareback, you don't actually hurt yourself but it stings a bit when you hit and you make a fucking huge crater."

"I am not jumping out of an airplane." I object.

"No problem, if you're scared I can push you."

I growl.

"Honestly." He says, unlocking the plane. "They had to push me out the first time too. But it's actually quite exhilarating."

Apparently I'm not the only one who's considered that as an option, he did say I couldn't think of anything to do him that hadn't been done already, what had he done to that poor person I wonder?

"Can't we just land it somewhere?"

"In the middle of the night? In the middle of nowhere? No, trust me, a parachute is much better than crashing in a fiery ball."

My mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

Finished stowing the parachutes and checking whatever he was checking he pokes his head out the door.

"Are you ready?"

No.

"It'll be fine Bella, I promise."

And I trust what you say about anything because?

He sighs and then extends his hand to me.

"Come on, live a little."

Ah crap.

Ignoring his hand I scramble into the plane. It's small and wobbly and makes Sweet-Knees feel like a Humvee. Oh god what if we crash in a fiery ball before we're even off the ground?

"Put your belts on." He instructs as I settle into the co-pilots seat.

"Why?" I ask, frowning at all the different bits of webbing and steel.

"A vampire rolling around in here would destroy the cockpit in seconds and little planes are much bumpier than big ones."

Bumpy?

Uselessly I experiment with some of the bits.

"Here." He says, leaning over and expertly fastening them.

Oh. Easy when you know how.

"Ready?"

I nod.

He starts the engine and the little plane starts juddering like it's trying to shake itself to bits.

Instinctively I clutch the armrests as we bob and weave our way down to the end of the runway. No lights, we don't need them.

"Don't worry." He says as if I'd voiced my fears, which empathically I suppose I have. "It's designed to be solid in the air, not on the ground."

At the end of the runway he turns and pushes the throttles forward and with a stunning lack of urgency the little plane picks up speed. The end of the runway rapidly coming into view. Fuck! I can run faster than this, we'll never get off the ground, there'll be a big fiery ball!

And then we're in the air. And he's right, it's nothing like a big jet. It feels so comically slow I can't believe it isn't going to drop like a stone at any moment. And bumpy? This isn't bumpy, it's like a fucking roller coaster. In tense silence I hold onto my armrests as we circle slowly and head north. Briefly I experiment with watching the world go by beneath us but after a few minutes I close my eyes. I've flown loads of times. I loved it, not the food, but the rest of it. Why is this so different, or is it just the fact that this trip isn't going to end with a metal staircase and some nice flat tarmac?

After a couple of hours he gets a map out and studies it carefully.

"Where are we going?" I ask somewhat belatedly.

"Colorado."

"This thing will go that far?" The doubt in my voice makes him laugh.

"Range is six hundred thirty eight nautical miles."

"Did you swallow the manual?" I grind out through gritted teeth as turbulence drops us about a hundred feet and then kicks us back up again.

"No." He responds patiently. "I _read_ it."

"In the hangar?" That's nifty even for a vampire and more than a little worrying if that's all the knowledge he's got about this plane.

Fiery ball, fiery ball.

God I'm such a wuss . . . .

"No. I've manuals for most aircraft at home. They interest me."

You're a geek too?

We plummet again for a moment and in need of a distraction I yet again forgo my no talking to _him_ rule.

"Why Colorado?"

"Its north and it's got enough space we can crash the plane without anyone noticing."

"Nevada's north." And the desert's flat, we could actually try landing the rickety thing . . . .

"Bella, you're a vampire. Surviving a deliberate crash is the least of your problems."

It is?

What problems?

I could probably deal with the rising and falling, mad swaying from side to side, if it wasn't for the ominous metallic creaking that the plane makes in response. If it wasn't for the fact that the last twenty four hours have completely freaked me out. If it wasn't for the fact that the only anchor I have in all this craziness is an enigma wrapped up in a hateful package. And if I wasn't so totally out of my depth, comfort zone, mind, whatever.

The armrests of my seat snap off in my fierce grip.

"We've a couple of hours to go." He observes, still studying the map. "Unless you dismantle the plane around us."

My hands flutter around uselessly, looking for something else to crush.

Wordlessly he reaches behind his seat and passes me an enormous steel bar.

"It's for when the plane's being towed on the ground." He explains before I can ask.

For the next couple of hours I amuse myself with it, leaving it badly mangled in a few places when the turbulence is bad and eventually resorting to picking off the yellow paint. Uncomfortably aware of him watching me unashamedly the whole time.

"We're nearly there." He announces finally. "Time to put your chute on."

I undo my harness and he helps me wriggle the pack onto my back in the confined space. Then he puts his arms around me to adjust the straps and without thinking I lean into his exposed neck and breathe in his masculine scent. Amazingly it works like an essential oil, calming me a little.

He withdraws his arms, fastening the harness at the front but instead of doing his own he pauses, looking deep into my eyes.

And then, inexplicably, he rests his forehead briefly against mine before donning his own chute and folding himself back in his seat.

"Once you've pulled the cord just hang there, let whatever happens happen, you cannot be hurt." He says as if nothing happened, making me doubt that it did . . . .

I nod.

"When you land, unless you need to move to avoid humans, _stay_ where you are and I will find _you_."

"Okay."

"Wait for me. Please."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to push you out?"

I nod. I can't imagine being able to jump and I don't want to die in a fiery ball.

"I'll push you. You count to three. Human speed. Pull the cord. It's simple."

"K"

"If it helps, scream."

"K"

"Alright, get your door open."

"Now?"

"Ahuh."

I pull the handle and push it back into the wind.

"Lean out but hold on tight."

I obey, flinching as the rushing wind assaults my eardrums and whips my hair in a million different directions.

His hands circle my waist and I almost jump out of my own accord. They feel so right there . . . .

"Are you ready?" He shouts in my ear.

"No."

"Sorry."

And with surprising gentleness he pushes me out, my hands wrenching away part of the doorframe as I go.

The wind hits me instantly, sending me tumbling away from the plane.

Why am I falling butt first? Is that normal? Should my feet be practically wrapped around my neck? The noise isn't unexpected, I realised air can have sound when I first got to grips with being a vampire. I wasn't expecting the friction though, my shirt's threatening to rip.

One.

Flailing madly I somehow manage to straighten myself out so I'm falling belly first like I've seen on the TV, much less undignified. There's virtually no scent up here, only the vapours from the plane's engine, rapidly diminishing as it flies away. It smells clean and pure. Ozoney.

Two.

It's cold. The cold doesn't affect me any more than the sun does but I can still feet it. If I had breath I'd be able to make a little cloud when I exhale. And if I was alive I would be peeing in my pants.

Three.

I yank the little metal ring attached to the cord and like an answer to my prayer the parachute escapes, jerking me upward as it captures the air.

Oh thank god. I don't want to know what it's like to make a crater, it's an experience I can live without.

After a couple of seconds, when nothing else happens, my terror retreats slightly and I look out over the landscape around me, not down, the view is amazing.

A flutter and snap above me suggests that A-J-his parachute is open too. I look up but all I can see is my own canopy. And a beautiful sight it is too.

Experimentally I waggle my legs but it sets whole thing moving alarmingly, hence the warning to keep still I realise. I saw a guy steer on these things once, landed right in the middle of our High School baseball field in Phoenix, he had smoke canisters though and probably several years of practise.

It's actually quite peaceful up here, descending slowly, with the air rustling the canopy above me. Enjoy is the wrong word, fascinated is about as far as I'm prepared to go. In no hurry at all the air currents push me gently sideways along the ridgeline of the mountain and toward the edge of the forest.

But as the ground gets closer, perceptually, my speed seems to increase. No crater maybe but there's an awful lot of trees and rocks down there. And they're suddenly coming up very fast. I squeal as my shoeless feet brush the top of the first tree and drag through the crown of the second, swinging me around wildly, tangling the cords of my canopy. The wind carries me free, across a brief clearing as the cords spin me like a top unravelling, then it slams me mercilessly into the next tree, about three quarters of the way up.

Immediately I begin my descent down, every branch aiming a slap in my face on the way until the canopy gets tangled in them and I jerk to a sudden stop. Upside down, which somehow doesn't surprise me.

Nevertheless I can't help but laugh.

I've been dead three years and in that time the most I've stolen is clothes and the odd book. Now, all of a sudden, I've stolen a plane, been pushed out of it over the mountains of Colorado, descended by parachute and am now hanging, by my feet, waiting to be found by a man I don't like and who is probably halfway back to Maine with a pain in his stomach from laughing. Yet I feel incredibly alive.

Unfortunately this predicament puts the skids under my plan to run away the second I hit the ground as I have yet to hit the ground. I should probably think about getting myself out of this before he finds me.

Ah. Too late.

He appears down below, tipping his hat back on his head and peering up at me in disbelief.

"How?" He asks.

I shrug and giggle. No idea.

"Do you need help?"

"No."

"Would you like me to catch you?" He offers, extending his arms.

"No."

"On your head be it." He chortles, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And indeed he's absolutely right.


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 32 Caveat Emptor**

**BPOV**

As I extract myself from the rocky ground our little plane crashes in a brief burst of flame somewhere higher up the mountain.

"Do you think anyone noticed?"

"Doubtful. We're well away from it so at worst it'll be a mystery for the locals to chew over in the years to come."

With a sigh I perch on a boulder and attempt to untangle my hair with my fingers.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"That's up to you." He says, picking a boulder of his own and lounging on it like it's an armchair.

The ease with which he can apparently relax really annoys me, nothing seems to worry him and it's hardly fair.

"Are we safe now?"

"As we'll ever be."

This time my sigh is much heavier.

"Why don't you come back to Maine with me, to the family?"

"They're not my family."

"They could be."

I shake my head.

"Is it because of me?"

Reluctantly I look him full in the eye and after a moment he looks away.

I'm not sure if they could be a family for me or not. I like them well enough and they seem okay with me but I'm not really used to the concept of family. I had my mom and twice a year I had Charlie, that's all I know. Anyway it's a moot point, they're his family and it hurts too much to be around him.

"What about the Denalis?" He asks after a while.

"I'm meeting Kate in New York in a month or so."

"That's not the same as having somewhere you belong and people to look out for you." He points out.

I shrug. It's enough, it's better than what I had before.

"You're a loner."

I shrug again.

"I understand that. I always thought I was too. I didn't realise it wasn't true until I found a place where I belonged, where people cared about me. And I didn't appreciate what that meant until it was too . . . . almost too late."

Oh please, I don't want your life story or your sympathy, I don't want anything to do with you at all. Just go away and leave me alone.

"Esme and Carlisle would be thrilled if you came back, even if it was only for a little while, they're worried about you too."

"And would that get you some brownie points?" My mouth asks nastily before my brain can stop it.

His darken immediately. Here we go, don't provoke the asshole or Mr Scary will come out to play. My body goes onto high alert, ready to run if he so much as twitches.

"Yes." He answers quietly. "It would get me some brownie points."

Up goes my super brave eyebrow.

"It would also mean that you're safe. Most vampires out there aren't like the Cullens, you've been lucky, you just haven't realised it."

"That's lovely." I growl. "Come back with me, it'll make me look good, oh and by the way you're too useless to be out and about on your own anyway. That's quite a motivational speech, where do I sign up?"

"I've really dug a big hole with you haven't I?"

Yes, but I don't get why you even care.

We lapse into one of our miserable and uncomfortable silences and I really should get up and walk away, opposite sides of the continent and all that, but something keeps me anchored to my boulder.

"I'm not very good at apologising." He says eventually and I glance across to find him staring up at the mountain.

I don't know what I'm supposed to say or feel about that. Should I take pity on him, tell him I understand it isn't in his nature to apologise because he's a big strong man and they're not supposed to make mistakes and that his admission is apology enough? Not fucking likely. Besides what difference does it make, he might, in some far off universe, where I'm a caterpillar with two heads, be vaguely sorry for the way he treated me but it doesn't change the fact that he did it, or that he did it because I'm less than nothing to him. That hurts and a 'sorry I feel that way and was rude enough to let you know' isn't going to change it.

I'm not sure how I feel about any of this. I don't want or need anything from him. I'm not looking for a father figure, a friend or a lover in him. But there's something missing between us and I have no idea what it is. I feel so strongly that it should be there, this unknown thing, that its absence leaves an inexplicable hole.

And that, along with my rampant desire to strip him naked and have my wicked way with him, is what I've been avoiding for quite some time now.

My stupid brain has never worked right.

Maybe if I understood him things would be better? If I knew more about why he's like he is with me, even if it's just me, what if that severed the 'link' I feel with him and then I could walk away. Closure I think they call it. I'd know and maybe I could even tolerate him enough to see the Cullens from time to time. I miss Em.

It's not going to happen though. If he won't formulate an apology an explanation is even less likely to be forthcoming.

"You're not making it easy." He sighs.

"Excuse me." I snarl. "I didn't realise I was obliged to."

"Isn't this what you want? For me to say I'm sorry I didn't realise I hadn't killed you. An apology for not being the most warm and friendly person you've met in your life? Would you like me on my knees?"

"No, it means nothing to me."

"Bella, coming home after everything that happened and finding you there, that was a shock. And I didn't deal with it very well.

I had it all planned out and your existence threw it all into disarray.

You weren't a mistake I could bush under the carpet or bury somewhere down deep. I thought if you were gone I could give myself a telling off and get back on track.

I realise now that I should have been honest with you."

Do you? Or did Esme or Carlisle tell you that?

"And I should never have had sex with you, that was a mistake."

Oh, ouch, good bye self esteem, send me a postcard when you hit the bottom of that big dark hole.

He jerks upright taking a step toward me but stopping when I flinch away.

"I didn't mean it like that." He sighs. "I really am crap at apologising."

You're pretty good at making me feel like I want to cry though.

"Bella, please look at me."

No, my dirty feet are far more interesting. Go away.

With another sigh he steps right up to me, cupping my chin gently but lifting it firmly so that I have to look up into his golden eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly, refusing to let me look away. "You're a beautiful woman and I'd do it again in a heartbeat but considering how young you are, how lonely and afraid I _know_ you are it was a mistake. I should have been able to resist you, I should have been able to protect you from doing something you'd regret later. I should have thought about what would happen afterwards.

I know you can cope with me being an asshole, you've already proved it. I wish I'd thought about how you'd react to me just being a man."

I blink.

"Please say something." He says softly.

"You're an asshole." I respond sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes.

"Argh!" He throws his hands up and stomps back to his rock.

Damn I enjoyed that. Don't smile, don't smile, that would just be childish . . . .

My feeling of satisfaction is short lived however. I feel a tiny bit ashamed of myself. Whatever his motivations, and I'm pretty sure they aren't entirely altruistic, he is at least trying to be less obnoxious, he's at least had a stab at something akin to an explanation. Surely I'm capable of doing the same, after all I consider myself to be a much nicer person than him. I am not, however, going to apologise. I should probably just thank him politely for saving me, possibly point out that we'd both be better off if we never saw each other again and move on, just like I'd decided.

Cautiously I peer across at him through my hair. He's miles away, deep in thought. Face immobile and expressionless. Hard and closed off. The way I always think of him. There are several things I could say at this point, probably should, but my throat has closed up and nothing's going to come out. Miserable silence prevails. I should go.

Wearily I get to my feet, dusting myself down.

He doesn't react. Not much of a surprise under the circumstances.

Feeling unaccountably sad I trudge away, downhill, I'll find the river I can hear and follow it back to civilisation.

Reminded of my recent experience I lift my shield but even so Robopire is breathing down my neck before I truly register his presence.

"Please Bella, don't just walk away from me."

"What else is there?" I respond, still walking.

"I want to try and make things right between us. I'll admit I don't really know how, or what that looks like, but I want to try. And not just because anyone else thinks it's the right thing to do."

With a martyred sigh I grind to a halt.

"A-Jasper, I don't really see how . . . ."

"Neither do I."

Oh. His lack of plan is strangely comforting. I don't see how things will ever be right between us either. The problem is I'm not sure I can see the point in trying.

"At least come back with me for a few days." He suggests, returning to our original conversation as if we'd never left it.

"No." No way are you parading me through there so you can get your gold star for effort. No _way_.

"Why don't you visit Denali then, they'd love to have you."

"I'm fine as I am. I've got places I want to go, things I want to try. I should probably get a job and start saving up to replace Sweet-Knees."

"You're very stubborn." He observes wryly.

So I'm learning.

"Alright. You've nothing to do for a month or so until you meet Kate, why don't we travel together?"

"I have not got _nothing_ to do. I have a life. I need to be getting on with it."

And besides, are you fucking crazy?

"You're a vampire, there's plenty of time for all that. I can help you. I can teach how to look out for and avoid trouble. I can teach you how to have fun as a vampire. You might even enjoy it."

Enjoy it? It'll be hell.

"It's very difficult to learn to accept help when you're used to relying on yourself."

Jesus, what are you Vampire Yoda?

"Why, when you were desperate to be rid of me before, do you suddenly want to spend time with me now?"

"I'm not very good at apologising and actions speak louder than words."

"That's it?" I snort. "You're feeling a bit guilty and you think you can assuage it by spending some quality time with me?"

"Something like that."

"You're a real piece of work." I mutter.

"You're not tempted?"

My eyebrow ratchets up, speaking for me.

"Why not?"

"Because we bring out the worst in each other, I was thinking about it earlier. You make me childish and bitchy and I make you, well, I've seen you be _less_ unpleasant with other people."

"I love how you can be saying something perfectly reasonable and still get a barb in." He chuckles.

"Thank you." I acknowledge. "Although in all fairness I think we should stay as far away from each other as inhumanly possible."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Aha! Infinitesimal pause." He crows. "You had to think about if before you answered."

"That's just because I was deciding how rude to be." I huff, annoyed with myself for pausing and annoyed with Robopire for noticing, nobody else would have done.

"Are you afraid to give it a try?"

"Am I immune to your attempt to manipulate me?" I drawl sarcastically.

He laughs and then sobers. "You can walk away any time you feel like it. Think of it as a money back guarantee."

I feel like walking away from it now. Except I don't appear to be.

"I'm not at all happy about this." I growl. "It's a really bad idea."

"Probably." He sighs, suddenly looking unsure.

And once again we're regarding each other in uncertain silence.

"We can do this." He asserts eventually.

We can?

"We should try." Now he sounds more convinced.

And I sigh. I should be running away at this point. I really should.

But who knows, maybe I can get a bestselling book out of it, 'Travels With My Asshole'. The title would need work of course . . . .


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 33 Different Strokes **

**BPOV**

As we make our way down the mountain I vacillate repeatedly between giving in and spending time with A-J, him, or leaving and not looking back. Arguing out the pros and cons in my head. But in the end two things sway me from leaving, yet. One, though I hate to admit it I actually don't want to go back to being alone just now and two, as he says I can change my mind and walk away any time I like. Alright three, I'm curious and might learn something along the way, however short a journey I suspect it's going to be.

As to whether or not anything about whatever happens next is going to be fun, the jury is out.

"I really need to hunt." I announce finally when I can't ignore the pain in my throat any longer.

His hands go to his own throat, rubbing it automatically.

"Sounds like a plan."

With a nod I wheel away, letting my nose take me but aware of him following on behind me.

There's food everywhere up here and for a while I track to and fro, searching out the most appealing scent, I haven't hunted in so long I'm going to take my time and savour it.

If he's impatient, my shadow, he doesn't let on.

At last I pick out the carnivore I'm looking for and go into Exocet mode, taking it down easily and sucking down the blood in strong even pulls. God I'm so thirsty.

When I've drained the poor thing I bury it and start seeking out my next meal, more of the same I think. Away to my left in the trees I hear AJ take down his own meal.

An hour later I stretch out, replete and sloshy on a big flat rock by the river to wait for him. It's a grey day that promises no sunlight so at least we'll be able to go into town when we find one, I really need clothes, I look like I've been dragged through a tree backwards. I give my backpack an experimental shake, yep, the laptop is definitely broken. That saddens me more than the loss of my car, the laptop was my only connection to the rest of the world for such a long time it's a bit like losing a friend.

I really will have to get a job now. I wonder how AJ will feel about that? I don't care what he says about having fun for a couple of months, I haven't got the resources they have and I need to work for what I want.

AJ wanders into view finishing a call on his cell.

"Carlisle." He explains.

"Ah, did you get your brownie points?" I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Yes thank you." He responds crisply. "He sends his regards, and Esme's, and asked me to remind you that you are free to come and go at the house whenever you want."

I nod. He did try to tell me that once before and although I wouldn't dream of taking him up on it it's still nice to know.

"So what now?" I ask as he crouches down and trails his hands through the raging water.

"We're in ski country, can you ski?"

"No. I was, um, a very clumsy human."

He looks at me in surprise. "You're very graceful for a vampire, when you're not falling out of trees."

"Well, there have been some improvements." I admit.

"Would you like to learn to ski?" He asks.

"Can we?"

"Yep, just need all the kit, it's very sunny up on the mountain but the clothes the humans wear cover a multitude of sins, even sparkly ones."

"I think I'd like to then. Although I probably won't be very good. I suppose it's a waste of time asking if you can ski?"

"It is." He answers with a laugh. "I'm a very good skier and snowboarder. It's something we can compete with humans over on a fairly level playing field. You just have to be careful not to fall over too often, one miraculous escape they'll swallow but if you make a habit of not hurting yourself they tend to notice. So we'll find somewhere to stay near here and I'll teach you to ski."

"I'll need a job too."

"What for?"

"I need money. I want to replace my laptop."

"You really work?" He asks, seeming genuinely interested.

"Yes. Haven't you ever had a job since you were a vampire?"

"No, never. Back in the early days it wasn't an issue, we just took what we wanted. There were fewer things to want, fewer people around to catch you and no CCTV, life was a lot simpler then."

I still can't imagine what it's like to live so long, to never forget any of it.

"These days we tend to just order off the internet and a nice little man or woman brings it to your door."

"I'm not a multi-millionaire." I point out.

"Neither am I."

Up goes the eyebrow.

"Billionaire." He coughs with a degree of embarrassment. "Alice could see the future. It was very useful financially."

_Okay_. We really are from different worlds, whichever way you look at it.

"Well _Billionaire._" I huff. "In the interests of both of us learning something from this 'experience' why don't you come job hunting with me?"

"I could just buy you a new laptop." He suggests, apparently not comfortable with the human world of work.

"Where's the fun in that?" I challenge, holding his eyes and letting my eyebrow loose again.

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't know how." He admits with a scowl. "And I doubt I've got any skills Colorado is prepared to pay for."

"Well if they're not advertising for anyone to start a war I could teach you to wash dishes."

"This is a very bad idea." He growls quietly.

And I smile. _Now_ we're both on the same page.

...

Out next bone of contention is accommodation. I live in the woods, he stays in expensive hotels. However since staying with the Cullens has spoilt me I allow myself to lose that argument and AJ rents us a modest two bed 'ski' apartment in a block for two weeks. Accomplished swiftly on his cell with the aid of his own personal travel agent.

With military thoroughness he's also called ahead and ordered all our ski equipment, arranging for it to be there as soon as possible after we arrive. He didn't even need to ask me what sizes I wanted, I'm not sure how I feel about that, slightly awkward and embarrassed I think. Apparently one good feel is all you need as a vampire to ascertain a woman's dimensions, if you've the experience to relate it to . . . .

Our final lifestyle difference of the day is over clothes.

On the edge of town is a superstore I've often frequented for the purposes of buying cheap, practical and impersonal clothes.

This is apparently unacceptable. I should, apparently, be proud of my beauty and sexiness. Yes, he called me sexy, that I will replay later at my leisure. And I should not be going out of my way to disguise it with the wearing of ill-fitting and unflattering clothes.

And so we add a new face to his repertoire, Sexist Pig.

I think the 'sexy' word was the manipulator because before I know it I'm in a boutique so snooty they're above mentioning that my clothes are torn and I'm not wearing any shoes. Or maybe it was the sight of his black credit card that rendered them opinion free. I can't deny it and I am ashamed of it, but I do feel a bit like Julia Roberts as the assistants smother me with charm.

Richard Gerepire gets _his _shopping done quickly and settles into an armchair to watch mine.

"You'll need something for clubbing." He observes when I'm done with the jeans and t-shirts.

"What's wrong with jeans?"

Sales assistant one rolls her eyes at her friend before addressing me.

"The dress code at our best night spots is extremely high madam."

Bitch, I've seen you ogling him. I'm a vampire, you can stick as much muck to your face as you like but I'll always look better than you.

"Well then." I simper. "I'd better have some _extremely_ high dresses. I think I have the legs, don't you?"

Outside the changing room AJ laughs.

"With cowboy boots madam?" She asks, attempting _my_ eyebrow manoeuvre.

"I suppose we should consider some heels, but I really don't think anyone will be looking at my feet, do you?"

"I won't be!" AJ pipes up to the annoyance of my tormentor who suddenly has a face like a smacked ass.

Ha. Take that.

…..

"Did you enjoy that?" He asks with a smirk as we stroll down the boardwalk loaded with bags.

"Does it make me a shallow bitch if I say yes?"

"Probably." He chuckles.

"It will take me forever to pay you back." I mutter, thinking about the size of the bill.

"We have that, if you feel the need, although it was my pleasure."

"Humph."

Indebted to you I don't want to be . . . .

…..

Our apartment is not _quite_ as modest as he made out but I didn't really want him to see one of my wonky mud huts anyway.

While he's busy with the Concierge I dump my new clothes on the bed in my room and let myself out onto the balcony.

This place is absolutely thronging with life and the atmosphere is incredible, it reminds me of Beale Street and I can't wait to get down there and get mingling . . . .

But first, a shower, I really need a shower. I might not be dirty in the sense that a human would understand but every dust and chemical particle on my skin is like a piece of grit. And my hair, well that's just downright nasty.

AJ comes in while I'm in there, like me negligently dumping his expensive clothes on the bed and then flicking on the TV in the main room, I can even hear his boots going up on the coffee table. Good job it's not my apartment, that wouldn't be allowed.

By the time I'm finished lavishing attention on my hair it's starting to get dark.

"Want to go out and sample the night life?" He calls from the other room.

"Yes and no. I want to find a job first."

"Were your ancestors puritans?" He grouches.

I shrug, forgetting that he can't see me.

"Hello?" He asks. "Can I request that you at least stop giving me the silent treatment?"

"Oh, sorry. No idea. I need a job. Job first, fun after."

"Yes ma'am." He drawls. "Am I changing for fun or job hunting?"

"Both?" I'm putting on my new designer jeans and a cropped top.

"Like I fucking know what that involves . . . ." He grumbles, stomping away to his room.

We open the doors to our rooms at the same time.

"Fuck me." He groans.

Oh dear god, he's like a Calvin Klein model with clothes on, or a beautifully wrapped Easter egg, depending on your poison of choice.

…..

Past that awkwardness we don our new coats and venture down onto the street, taking in the sights, sounds and smells as we saunter along.

There's something here somewhere, a scent that piques my interest, but it keeps slipping away in the general bouquet of the place.

"So how do we hunt jobs?" He asks.

"I usually just wander around looking for help wanted signs. I've no skills or qualifications so it usually waitressing or kitchen slaving. But I'm also a mean cab dispatcher and store assistant extraordinaire."

"You've got several real estate licenses." He points out.

"Yeah, um, what was the deal with that?"

"I don't know." He answers with a shrug. "I just thought you might like to try something different and it didn't seem like you had any particular interests or experience. It just seemed like a good occupation for a vampire."

"I like books." I confide.

"Me too." He responds. "Next time I'll set you up as a librarian."

"Thanks."

"De nada."

In surprisingly companionable silence we stroll through the town, which is beautiful, while I scan for help wanted signs.

He refrains from commenting as we pass several by.

"Here, they want a waitress and a barman."

"Why this one?"

"Look in the window." I explain. "See how busy it is? See how miserable the staff are?"

He nods.

"See the guy barking orders at them? The one with the mean little eyes?"

Another nod.

"He's an asshole, you should recognise the signs. It means a high turnover of staff and he's always in a hurry to recruit more. If you can walk and talk and don't look like you cry easy he'll take you, probably won't even bother to check references."

"That's very perceptive." He observes and of course he can feel the emotions inside. "There's only one problem. I may _be_ a giant asshole but that doesn't mean I'll take it from anyone else."

"Chicken?" I drawl.

"This is a _really_ bad idea." He mutters, returning his attention to the heaving bar.

...

Because I've done this before and he's empathic, and quite charming when he wants to be, we sail through the brief interview and get the go ahead to start the following night.

Chuckling, as he scours the internet on his cell for as much information on modern human drinking habits as he can, I take myself off to my room for a soak in the tub. Tomorrow is my first skiing lesson.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 34 Après Ski**

**BPOV**

"Here stick some of this on." He says, handing me a tube of purple sunblock. "It'll cover your skin, I don't think it's going to be too sunny today but we'll stick out like sore thumbs on the nursery slopes if we wear our goggles and swathe ourselves in scarves."

"Um?"

Laughing he squeezes some onto his hand and starts drawing on my face with it. He's so near his scent is saturating my nostrils and I allow myself a deep breath and a bit of a stare at his beautiful face.

"There. Perfect." He announces, pulling back to examine his handy work.

Aware that I'm still staring at him like an idiot I turn to inspect myself in the mirror.

...

The nursery slope looks more like a death slide to me, it's steep and crawling with parents, kids and instructors.

Nevertheless he's a patient and able teacher and with my unnaturally enhanced abilities I pick it up quickly, but not as quickly as the little kids, and I don't care if they do have a lower center of gravity, it's embarrassing.

By mid morning we're ready to progress to a proper ski slope and I can't believe how much I'm enjoying myself. I mean, I know he can be nice, I've seen it, but it's very strange to have him be nice to me. Not that I'm relaxing, the man's got more sides than a dodecahedron, I'm just being given the benefit of one of the better ones for a change. If he can pull this face out whenever circumstances throw us together then maybe I _can_ visit the Cullens every once in a while. And maybe I can travel with him for a bit. As to why he's doing this, well maybe he does feel a bit guilty, so perhaps this will be good for both of us . . . .

With last minute instructions AJ sends me on my way. And I thought the nursery slope was steep . . . .

Since caution seems to be my middle name I'm more than halfway down before my confidence gets up and I start making my runs between turns steeper.

"You're doing great." AJ calls out from behind me.

Wow, I can do this, Bella Swan can ski . . . .

Pride goeth before a fall however as a skier cuts across me abruptly, with no other option and aware of how many bones he'll break if he hits me, I hurl myself sideways landing on one of those marker thingies.

"Stay there!" Jasper hisses as he crashes to a stop beside me. "That was a bad fall, don't move, people are watching."

I nod, still lying on my side where I landed as he snaps off his skis and crouches down beside me.

"Sit up slowly, we don't want the medics coming down."

I sit up carefully and he takes my skis off, standing them up in the snow beside his.

"Well done, I was sure you were going to take him out. Stupid dick was showing off for his girlfriend he didn't even see you, he would have really done some damage if you were human."

"Sit still and look a bit shocked." He adds quietly. "We are currently the number one source of entertainment."

I nod, rubbing at my ankle for good measure.

"Ready to get up?" He asks after a while.

"Not sure."

"What's the problem?"

"I crushed that marker thingy. I'm sitting on the bits."

He throws his head back and laughs.

"That's okay. They're designed to fall to bits when you hit them."

"Oh."

He offers me his hand and I let him pull me carefully to my feet and slot his arm around my waist.

"Are we still being watched?"

"Yep, lean on me a bit."

"Why are they so interested?"

"Your ski suit fits you perfectly." He chuckles. "They're wishing I wasn't here so they could come and help you."

"Oh."

"Kate and Tanya are both Olympic level skiers but they fall over a lot, you can guess why."

"Oh."

"Relax and let the big strong man support you down to the bottom of the slope, they'll lose interest in a minute."

It takes forever to get down the last bit at human speed and if I wasn't enjoying having his arm around me I would have got bored.

At the bottom he settles me on a bench and narrows his eyes dangerously at the guy I nearly totalled who is busy lording it with his cronies.

Sensing trouble I grab his hand and pull him down onto the seat beside me which earns me a strange smile.

"Why does it matter?" I ask, curious.

"It doesn't I suppose." He sighs. "I do sometimes have an issue with my temper though."

Tell me about it.

"It doesn't happen as often as it used to." He adds.

"What triggers it off?"

"Lots of things." He shrugs. "Self defence, when something I care about is threatened, bad hair day, general assholey tendencies."

"Your hair looks fine." I observe and he smiles.

"Ready to try again?" He asks, changing the subject.

Enthusiastic nod. I was just starting to get the hang of it when I was so rudely interrupted.

Oops, forgot to let go of his hand.

...

"Do I really have to do this?" He asks for the hundredth time as we wander through the crowds on our way to work.

"No. But I might get fired if I turn up without you."

"I'd rather go clubbing."

"We can go later if you still want to. Stop whining like a baby."

Its only when you're around other people, in a crowd, that you realise just how big he is and what an impression he makes. People part before him like water breaking around a big rock, I don't whether that's partly instinct about what he is, he does seem less human than me in many ways, or whether it's just him. And when I'm with him, and I've played with re-enforcing my shield, I get noticed more too. In fact all around us people are watching covertly and talking about us.

Is one of us on a TV show? Have you seen that hot guy? Holy shit look at her, I think I'm in love.

I'm not used to it and I'm finding it uncomfortable. I don't want to be the center of attention, I want to be the one everybody forgets about . . . .

He's obviously aware of it too but perhaps he's used to it, or has a massive ego to feed, because it doesn't seem to bother him. In fact he plays up to it sometimes. Like this morning, some of the moms on the nursery slope were in danger of a cardiac arrest, or wetting their panties.

"If I drain or kill anyone I'm blaming you." He whispers as we push our way through the staff entrance.

Drama queen.

First nights seem busy whether they are or not and I don't see much of him for the first hour or so although as always I'm acutely aware of his presence. When I do get a chance to check up on him its only to discover that he seems to find tending bar as easy as he does everything else, in fact he almost looks like he's enjoying himself, or maybe that's just the attention of the ladies . . . .

With a sigh I flop my tray down on the counter and hand him my drinks order. It is busy, if I were a human my feet would be throbbing and my head would be pounding, skiing obviously makes a living body hungry and thirsty.

"I can't actually stand up properly behind here." He grumbles.

I give him a sympathetic smile as he continually ducks his head around the various items dangling 'decoratively' from the ceiling behind the bar.

Working at human speed he still fills my order quicker than the other barman and I speed away with it. The tips here are very good so it's worth throwing in a little extra effort.

"Doesn't it bother you getting felt up like that?" He asks the next time we meet up at the bar.

I shrug, it seems to be happening more tonight than normal but they don't usually mean any harm when they do it, and if they did that'd be their problem.

"Well it bothers me." He mutters unhappily, plonking the brimming glasses down on my tray and moving on to his next customer.

The shift flies by and before I know it we're putting on our coats and telling everyone we'll see them tomorrow. The rest of the staff are friendly enough but I was right about the boss, Michael, the only staff he didn't give a hard time to tonight were AJ and I. But of course we are the only ones on his team who don't get tired and make mistakes, he's too tight to hire the number of people he actually needs.

"Now can we have some fun?" AJ drawls as we turn the corner into the street, there are still quite a few people about even at this time of night.

"Does that mean I have to go home and get changed?" I sigh.

"Nope, the doorman was telling me about a good place on the edge of town, sounds like us menial labourers will fit in there just as we are."

"What are we going to do there anyway?"

"Dance."

Oh great.

"And tease people."

"Tease people?"

"Don't worry." He chuckles ominously. "As Em always tells Esme 'No human will be harmed in the making of this fun'."

Inside he buys us drinks and settles us into a table where we can watch the world go by without craning our necks.

**JPOV**

I wasn't honest about why I tracked her. My guilt was eating me alive, a new experience, and I thought if I at least knew when she was heading back our way I could formulate some kind of strategy for getting near enough to her to explain myself.

I _was_ honest about why I followed her down to Texas, it's dangerous down there and no place for a girl who is more human than vampire, certainly not when Pete's already told me that Maria's kicking off again.

And I was honest when I told her I would have felt bad if anything happened to her. After all it was me who drove her away and even though I'd clearly warned her not to go too far south I could hardly complain that she wasn't paying attention. Most of what I said to her in Maine was best ignored anyway.

I couldn't get her out of my mind and I tried fucking her out of it, literally, but it didn't work. Largely because I couldn't bring myself to do it, and I tried really hard, but no one sparked even a flicker of sexual interest in me. Which was probably my subconscious's way of telling me the only way I was going to get her out of my head was if I manned up and apologised. And meant it, not because everybody expected it of me, but because I was genuinely sorry for the way I treated her.

And I am.

I came home wanting to be a better man and promptly turned into a worse one. Alice must be spinning in her, well, whatever she got as a result of my selfish actions. She always forgave me so easily for my fuckups, understood my upbringing, was constantly telling me I'd be the man I wanted to be one day. It hurts to realise that maybe she wasn't doing me any favours. Fucking up's very hard to regret when everybody expects it of you and accepts you anyway. Fuck it had happened so often it was almost a family joke. I guess it's hard to think about what's at stake until you get a rude awakening. The death of my wife was a harsh one, but then most lessons in my life have been harsh. Maybe that's not cosmic vengeance, it might just be because I've a thick head and it takes a lot to penetrate it.

Either you way look at it I'm clearly toxic to associate with.

So why then, am I here inflicting that on someone I already regret dragging into my Greek tragedy?

Fucked if I know. Really . . . .

I should have brought her back and left her to it, just like I intended and she wanted. Hell I could have dragged her back to the family or Denali and left myself. Being here with her is the final insult and she'll pay for it eventually, one way or another.

Oh I know my rationalisations. She really does need to learn better how to survive.

I heard everything that went on in those canyons. My hearing is better than anyone else's too. Her shield was hiding her perfectly and then that fucker Cornell sent her out to get killed so he could escape. She's that fucking naïve. And his fiery death is that fucking high up the top of my To Do List.

But in all honesty since she's never going to be fighter Kate could probably teach her to survive better than I can.

And the fun? Fuck me I've never met anybody more in need of learning to have fun. I don't know what her human life was like, other than short, but she's such a shrinking violet she's in danger of disappearing completely, with or without gift. It's wrong for a beautiful woman to creep around the world willing herself to be ignored by everybody. It's wrong for her to serve food to humans, feel she has to let them grope her, wrong for her to make herself miserable trying fit into their norms when she's not one of them anymore. It's wrong for her to feel so lonely and disconnected, she deserves better.

And it's wrong for her to be afraid like she was when we left Texas. Other people's fear usually leaves me cold but hers was like an unexpected knife to the guts. I couldn't feel it but I could see it and I had no idea how to calm it without my gift. It was, _unpleasant_, to not be able to just overwrite it with something else . . . .

And wrong, wrong, wrong for her to be exposed to me.

Going around in circles much there Whitlock?

There's another problem. I should have never taken advantage of her, she's battled so hard to control her vampire nature she's no real understanding of what it is. I realise that now. When I came onto her she'd effectively got no idea what she was happening until it was too late. She loathes me and couldn't rationalise why she had sex with me anyway, and god knows I was as big a cunt about it as I could possibly be. I'm as surprised she agreed to travel with me as I am I suggested it.

But that's not the problem.

Part of my mind, and all of my body, is constantly consumed with the desire to be buried inside her, having her close where I can protect her, whatever . . . .

I still _want_ her more than I've ever wanted anybody else in my entire existence. And since my vampire nature was actively encouraged from the outset that's a _lot_. This is turning out to be an odyssey of self-control I'm not sure I'm equipped to deal with and I need to be really, really careful . . . .

She's like quicksand, sucking me down. Physically I'm drawn to her, I stick to her like a fly on paper. Take this morning when we held hands, if she hadn't yanked hers away I'd still be gripping it now, like we'd been super glued together. I need to at least maintain some physical distance between us, for both our sakes . . . .

**BPOV**

"Dance?" He asks after a while.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 35 Beast**

**BPOV**

Dance?

With him?

Here?

Doubtfully I survey the couples twirling together on the floor, talking, laughing, touching, together. This doesn't seem like an asshole related activity to me . . . .

Nevertheless, when he's stood in front of me, offering me his hand I take it without question and allow him to lead me out onto the crowded dance floor.

While I'm still frantically pondering what happens next he pulls me easily into his arms and sets us gliding smoothly to the music.

This isn't so bad, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking at though, my eyes are darting around like fireflies. Finally I settle for a fibre by fibre analysis of his shirt. One, two, three, four, five, six . . . .

"Have you thought about what you'd like to do once you've earned enough for a new laptop?" He asks in a perfectly normal conversational tone, relaxing me instantly.

"No. I should probably start saving for a car again but I'm not sure now that it's very practical for a travelling vampire to use a car."

"Hm. We can probably have more fun without a car for now anyway. Try and think of this as a vacation."

"Playboy." I snicker.

"I am not." He says indignantly. "But being a vampire doesn't have to be all hard work and denial, that's an important lesson to learn too."

Maybe but I can't ever remember being much of a one for fun when I was alive, in fact I can't really think of a time when I really had any, there was always something holding me back. Fear of ridicule, lack of friends, epic clumsiness. There were lots of things I enjoyed and a few things I loved, like reading, but nothing I can remember thinking of as fun. I did have fun skiing today but it's not as if I'm going to be able to do that for eternity.

"You pick, I don't mind." I suggest.

"Alright." He responds happily as if it was the option he was looking for. "And just to prove I'm not a playboy I'll throw in plenty of vampire kicks that don't cost anything."

"Okay."

"We've still got more serious stuff to do before you go swanning off to New York with Kate." He adds. "And we're going to have to visit a few places where I know there'll be other vampires."

I shiver, I suppose it makes sense but at the moment I'd be quite happy never to run into another new vampire again.

"It'll be fine." He says gently, squeezing my hand and pulling me closer with the one resting lightly in the small of my back. "I wouldn't knowingly put you in the path of danger, I just want you to be confident how to behave when you meet others, which you will, recognise the signs when they're best avoided and know how to avoid them. It will give you a chance to practise with your shield too."

Brilliant. Enjoy your 'vacation' Bella, but not too much.

It's not until the music changes that I realise our bodies are now as close together as the other couples.

And I risk a glance up at him.

Big mistake. He's staring down at me with yet another unfathomable expression on his face.

I swallow convulsively and he tightens his grip on me, drawing our bodies together until there's no space between us.

"Bella, I . . . ."

The doors open and a crowd of people surge into the bar, my head snaps around immediately. That scent is back, the intriguing one from last night, but much stronger, in fact suddenly it's all I can smell.

Wordlessly I step away from him, sniffing the air as I make my way carefully between the other dancers.

Its human, human blood. Unaccountably, unbelievably delicious human blood. Quite possibly the best and most wonderful aroma I have encountered in my entire life.

Venom pools in my mouth, searing my already flaming throat.

A hard hand grips my wrist and I whirl, snarling viciously. My blood. Mine. I won't be sharing it. I'll kill to take it just for me.

"Time to go." The vampire says sternly, dragging me back the way I've come.

I pull back, trying to yank my hand free, but he's too strong and I'll I manage to do is knock one of the dancing couples flying. Spilling blood.

Oh god, blood. It's everywhere around me. Pumping through their bodies, I can hear it, I can smell it, I can see it. I can see him, the owner of _my_ amazing blood. I'm going to drain him of every drop of that ambrosial smelling liquid if I have to kill everyone here to do it.

Two strong arms wrap around my chest like steel bands, lifting me off the floor and carrying me away, struggling and still snarling ferociously, at vampire speed.

Shouts, screams and questions erupt around us. But I don't care, I don't care about any of it, only that smell, my thirst and the hard body overpowering mine, refusing to let me have what I want.

I struggle all the way out into the trees and halfway up the mountain, screaming, cursing and trying to bite or otherwise harm the vampire restraining me.

When he deposits me on the ground and then throws himself on top of me I suck in a giant lungful of air and roar my rage into his face.

The smell's gone, replaced by another, just as maddening but for different reasons.

Growling, but not with anger, I wrap my legs around his hard body and jerk my pelvis into him.

"No!" He orders, face hovering over mine.

Unable to move my arms I lift my head, fastening my lips to his, attempting to force my tongue between them.

"No." He repeats, pulling his head back. "This isn't what you want either. Focus. Remember who you are."

"I want you." I howl, grinding myself against him again. I can feel him getting hard and I want it. Crave it, I need to feel . . . .

"No." He growls with maddening calm. "You don't. _Think_ Bella. Remember who you are!"

"Ungh." I reach up again, scraping my teeth down the column of his throat.

"Jesus _Christ_ woman." He groans. "I'm a vampire too and I'd happily fuck you into oblivion right now. But. You. Don't. Like. Me."

"I don't care." I gasp, writhing against him and reaching for his neck again with my teeth.

"Yes you do. _You _do."

"Throat hurts." I moan, since nothing's happening to distract me from it.

"I bet it does." He chuckles, the vibrations flashing through my body and setting it off again.

Angry I thrash against him, trying to break his hold, dislodge his weight. Hurt him. Over and over and over.

Fruitless.

And finally my consciousness is forced back into my body by the absence of anything else. So complete and immediate was my transformation in the club I didn't even feel it coming on, wasn't aware of my thought processes shutting down, and I hadn't even realised it until now, when they're starting up again. Remembering . . . .

"Oh my god." I whisper.

Immediately he eases his painful grip, rolling away from me but keeping a firm hold on my arm.

What? Oh god what the hell just happened? How could I lose control so completely, without even knowing it? I mean I've been tempted before, failed to control it a time or two, but nothing like this. And Jasper, oh god, what? There's so much blasting around in my head I don't even know where to start.

That man, his blood, what was that?

I groan in pain and longing. I wanted to drain him, I was going to, I still want to now even though that tantalising scent is gone. I'd have gladly slaughtered the whole club to get to him, what's wrong with me?

"What's wrong with me?"

"I'm guessing he was your singer." AJ answers.

I try to pull my arm back so I can sit up and look at him properly but he refuses to release it. For a moment anger flares but then it subsides again and I flop back down, settling for rolling my head to face him.

"Singer?"

"A human whose blood calls to you more than any other's. The ultimate temptation."

"He smelt so wonderful."

"If you want him you can have him. But you have to hunt him carefully. The consequences of exposing yourself to humans are swift and irrevocable."

"You stopped me." Half grateful, half accusing.

"I'm supposed to be looking after you. Not letting you get yourself executed. Besides you're a good veggie, you'd have regretted it afterwards."

I nod. I am. I would have. But still, he was mouth-watering, I'm still swallowing down the excess venom.

"I don't understand. I would have killed all of them to get him, I would even have fought you and then I wanted . . . ."

"It's the beast." He says with recognition. "Your inner vampire, the monster that you are. The one that craves blood, sex, violence, any kind of physical gratification over thought and awareness."

My face must betray my disgust and denial because he laughs bitterly.

"You might not like the idea. And you might fight it on every level from now to eternity. But it's there, it's part of who you are. Denying it only leads to trouble and the pain of not living up to your expectations."

"Are you suggesting turning into a savage every once in a while is good for me?" I gasp in shock.

"No. I'm not. Recognise it. Accept it. Then you'll be able to manage it better."

"I'm not a monster." I whimper, voicing out loud and old, old, mantra.

"Yes." He says with finality. "You are. You're an immortal being designed to live on the blood of humans. There's a beast in you that's always going to be threatening to break through to the surface. Not being able to control it is going to get you killed. The rule is simple and even more important in this modern world. There are covens that will love you and accept you but still kill you to protect the others if they don't think you can control yourself."

"I can control myself." I object, stung.

"Yes you can. And any vampire will understand the concept of singers. But what they won't understand is if you _don't_. By all means take them, but don't endanger yourself or others to do it."

If Eleazar had explained all that to me in Carlisle's study I would have smiled and nodded. Believed I'd understood it. But I realise that it wouldn't have in any way prepared me for the reality of it. If I'd run into that guy in a department store, alone as I surely would have been . . . . God it doesn't bear thinking about . . . .

Yet even so I can't snuff out the thought trails that are planning a more structured approach to draining him.

"What would it be like?" I whisper.

"He will taste amazing. Draining him will give you almost unbearable pleasure. And you'll have no pain in your throat for at least a week."

Nothing, for a whole week? Jesus, put me off the idea why don't you?

"Your eyes will be red, deep dark red. And he'll be dead. But they'll go gold again over time. We'll have to leave town straight away, it's possible someone might have seen enough in the club to be suspicious."

Don't think about it, don't think about how easy he makes it sound . . . .

"Have you ever met a singer?"

"Two."

Funny how he'll talk about anything except himself and I can't stop myself from frowning at him.

He sighs heavily.

"The first one was when I was quite young. We passed by their homestead. She was breast feeding her baby. I have no idea what happened to the baby, I don't remember killing it but it ain't likely I gave it a bath and put it to bed."

Oh Jesus, Jasper.

"The second one was a guy at a gas station. Him I followed all the way home, two hundred sixty miles, I sat on his roof and listened while he had dinner with his wife and kids. I waited until they'd all gone to bed, listened while he made love to her and then fell asleep, then I dragged him outside and drained him in their yard."

His voice is so expressionless he could be telling me about a trash can he took out to the kerb once. I recognise it as his asshole voice except I think I can hear a bit more to it now. Esme said he doesn't forgive himself very easily and I can hear that. But if he holds a grudge against himself for everything he thinks he does wrong, why does he keep doing it?

I don't know, it's too deep for me.

"I don't want that." I whisper, careless of how that sounds under the circumstances.

"Then don't give into it." He says easily, flipping back to what I now think of AJ mode, pleasant and reasonable. "Mentally you're very strong."

"Not wanting to do and not doing are two different things." I mutter miserably.

"The trick, I suspect, is not to torture yourself with it. If you don't want to kill him then we should leave now. Isn't that how you'd normally deal with something like this?"

"I'm very good at running away." I half laugh.

"Don't knock it. Knowing _when_ to do it is a good life skill."

"Don't you mind?"

"Leaving? No. If you want to ski again there are plenty of places. Not going to work tonight? I guess I can live without it if I have to."

"Thank you." I drench my words with as much sincerity as I can.

He smiles slightly.

"And, I'm sorry, for you know . . . ."

"Attempting to have your wicked way with me?" He chuckles. "I'm only sorry I had to turn you down."

I giggle. See he can be charming when he tries, even though I know he wouldn't have wanted to either.

"What about our stuff?" I don't like the idea of leaving it but under the circumstances going into town is not looking very appealing right now.

"Leave it, its all disposal."

My face must have given away my reaction to that statement because he grins.

"Alright. We'll go fetch it. But you need to make a choice. If you smell him again do you want me to stop you or not?"

"Stop."

"Hold my hand then Miss Swan and know that I won't be letting go, no matter what happens."


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 36 A Step, And a Step Ahead**

**BPOV**

True to his word he didn't let go of my hand once, not even when it was obvious my meal of choice hadn't returned to town. But I wouldn't have dreamed of objecting, my singer's blood seemed to temporarily enhance the appeal of everyone else's and even though he made me hunt before we came back I was struggling more than I've ever done since I first made my way back to the human world.

I had so much to process I didn't speak to him for twenty four hours.

He didn't seem to mind and I was grateful for his strong silent presence not least because for quite a while I couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if he hadn't been there. Or continually calculating how long it would take me to track back.

Eventually I lassoed by thoughts into the two most pressing categories. My inner beast. And him.

None of the others ever described their nature as a beast or monster, although I've always thought of myself as the latter. They talked about their thirst, their strong physical desires, their heightened feelings and their struggles to control them but they never described them as if they were another part of themselves.

Is that just an AJ thing, is that how excuses himself for what he does, his inner beast?

It would explain a lot but it doesn't quite sit right somehow.

Now I'm looking I can sort of see what he means. There is something there, lurking beneath the surface, it's not a whole other being, it's definitely me. Perhaps what now constitutes the real me. The vampire.

I'm not a human any more. I look like one, but I'm not. I live in their world, but I'm not a part of it. And maybe I should stop trying so hard to be.

The others, they all interact with humans, play their part when required. But then they go home and get to be what they are. Talk at vampire speed, build a house in a couple of hours, read a book in minutes, hunt, make love, have fun.

Me on the other hand, I'm still trying to be a human. Have a job, a home, friends. The human versions of what I understood those things to be. And it isn't going to work. It's never going to work because I'm not one, I'm a vampire.

Which is all fine and dandy but currently I'm a poor one and since my human ideals are strong enough to prevent me turning to a life of crime I can't really see what else I'm supposed to do but try to carry on.

And speaking of vampires I find myself sorely in need of a distraction from thought and awareness . . . .

**JPOV**

I've never met anyone who could get so absorbed in their thoughts. Oh no, wait, I have. Me.

Her shield is rammed down tight and I don't think she'd notice if world war three broke over our heads. In fact I'm not entirely sure she's aware I'm still here.

I know she'd find it insulting but once again I'm amazed at how well she's coped, that she's survived. Her strength of character is what enabled her to cope, must have been fate that kept her alive. Alive long enough to return to me. If that's the case it's definitely favouring me and not her.

How long should I leave her to it? I understand the need to retreat inside yourself and work out your issues. But it isn't healthy to overdo it.

I don't like her being like this. I wish I could help her somehow . . . .

**BPOV**

"The last time I was here." He says suddenly, indicating the new town beneath us. "Was with Pete and Char."

I'm fascinated with the idea of Pete and Char.

"After they rescued me from, well, like we just did, we high tailed it north as far and as fast as our feet would carry us. This was the first place we stopped for a while."

Somehow I manage to resist making cranking motions with my hand as he pauses.

"It was much smaller then. We rented a place just down the road a way."

His voice is changing, the inflection fading, this isn't going to be a happy story . . . .

"It wasn't easy. We had to travel a long way to feed without drawing attention to ourselves. But we managed for a while. It was the first time in my life I ever got to pause for a moment, with nothing to do. No one was trying to kill me. I should have been happy. I should have been grateful. But I don't think I knew how to be."

I study his profile carefully as he stares out over the valley but his face is giving nothing away, once more it feels like we're talking trash cans . . . .

"I certainly had no concept of acceptable behaviour or how my actions affected other people. Pete and I got in a fight. Over soap of all insignificant things. I didn't hurt him that time but I was angry and I came into town alone.

There's still a legend here abouts. The night the town burned down and twenty men lost their lives fighting the blaze.

I killed the men. Pete and Char torched the bar district to hide the evidence."

"The beast?" I ask when he doesn't say anything else.

"No. That was all me. It's all always me. That's what I was trying to tell you before. I am the beast, and so are you, I just don't always control it as well as you do."

Was that a compliment?

"When you crashed your truck you were bleeding. It was all it took to draw me to you. You weren't a singer but you still smelt delicious. I don't have Carlisle's medical training so I can't say if you would have survived if I'd called an ambulance. It didn't even occur to me to try.

I influenced your emotions so you wouldn't be distressed.

And I drained more than enough blood out of you to kill you. You tasted delicious too."

Of all the things I could say at this point . . . .

"Then why aren't I dead?"

"I don't know."

I'd like to rail against him, I should be, but I'm a vampire too. Would I have done anything differently? I haven't sometimes in the past and any one of those people could have been just like me, I never stopped to find out. I'm pretty sure they're all dead too, I certainly hope they are, I wouldn't wish what I went through on anyone. Do I hate him for that?

No. Of all the things I can be angry at him for, that isn't one of them. That's a fuckup I can accept. He didn't know. If he had and had still left me, that would be different . . . .

Do I think that's what really happened? He is an asshole after all. Do I think he's capable of leaving me lying there, knowing I was going to turn into a vampire and not caring?

No. I don't know. I don't think so.

But I do believe he wouldn't have been stupid enough to do it.

Ergo.

He really did think I was dead.

And he didn't abandon me.

**JPOV**

I only wanted to distract her from internalising everything and instead I gave her yet more unsavoury details about my life and confessed to just how easy it was for me to kill her.

Wow, I bet she's really impressed with me now. I want it change her opinion of me, not entrench it.

I want her to _like_ me.

Now there's a word.

I don't think I've ever cared whether or not someone would like me before. And I'm not sure I know how to make it happen.

That's not true, I could do it if I put my mind to it. I've done it before.

But I want her to like _me_, not the person I present her with.

Sweet.

I desperately want a woman, a good one, to like me, when even I don't like the real me.

**BPOV**

By mutual consent we bypassed that town and moved on to another coming to a stop at the head of the valley when we cross the old scents of several vampires.

"What can you smell?" AJ asks.

"Three or four, they come this way regularly, not always together." I answer rolling my eyes, there's nothing wrong with my nose.

"They're marking their territory." He nods. "Making sure that any vampires who come this way know the area is taken. They've probably got several towns around here they consider theirs."

"Does that mean keep out?"

"It can do, vampires that are hunting would probably bypass the place just in case."

"What do we do now?" I ask uncertainly, definitely feeling some isolationist tendencies.

"We stroll on down and introduce ourselves." He says with a grin.

"What if they aren't friendly?" I don't want a confrontation, a fight. I'm not cut out for it.

"Then we leave slightly quicker than we arrived." He chuckles, starting down the trail.

I hesitate and then plunge down after him. This is supposed to be a learning experience after all.

Using the excuse of not planning ahead Mr Billionaire books us into a hotel that instantly has me readying my inferiority complex for a good work out and though we haven't encountered a fresh scent yet my shield is up and my senses are on full alert. All in all I would not describe myself as particularly relaxed at this point.

"Job or fun?" He asks as we dump our stuff on the couch in our suite.

Normally I'd answer job straight away but if there are vampires here, I don't know. I don't want to be wandering around out there on my own.

"A-ha. You hesitated. Fun it is."

Jesus, how old are you?

…..

Never in a million years would it have occurred to me to ice skate.

"Well, what do I do?" I ask him as soon as I've laced my boots and experimented with standing up.

"No idea." He laughs. "I've never done this before either. But how hard can it be?"

The answer is, quite, we might have perfect balance but that does not make us natural skaters. Not falling over was relatively easy as long as we didn't make any sudden moves and we must have gone around the outside holding onto the barrier at least ten times before one of us, AJ, plucked up the courage to let go.

Grinning like a fool he pushes away from the side and skates away, with apparently a little too much force judging by the speed. Desperate not to crash into anyone he turns his toes in like a skier, pitching forward onto the ice and sliding along for several yards on his face.

A couple of laughing ten year old kids narrowly avoid giving themselves a hernia by trying to pick him up but they do guide him back to the barrier with admonishments to 'take it easy man'.

Safe he glances back at me ruefully, frowning when he realises I'm cracking up with silent mirth. Well it is funny to watch Robopire do a face a plant, and I suspect, quite rare.

Growling too low for humans to hear he pushes himself away, more gently this time, and starts skating purposefully, if somewhat stiffly, around the rink.

Eek.

Pulling myself along is too slow, especially with all the comparatively more leisurely human beginners crowding the outside edge. I risk a look behind. He's gaining on me, grinning, and not necessarily in a good way.

With a silent prayer I let go of the rail and launch myself carefully out onto the ice, I've been watching the other skaters and I think I have a fair idea of what to do.

And it doesn't seem to be as hard as it looks, confidence surging I put on a little more speed, grey haired old ladies are overtaking me, and take another look over my shoulder, giggling at the big scary vampire gaining on me with his slippery feet threatening to head in four different directions at once. I push off a little harder, moving out into the jet stream of the speedier skaters.

This is awesome and a huge smile breaks out on my face, vengeful vampires who've just embarrassed themselves temporarily forgotten. I wonder if I can twist around and go backwards? The guy in front of me does just that, still holding his girlfriend's hand. Show off.

I almost try it but the visualisation of me knocking people out of the way like skittles when I go down stops me. I think I'll settle for being quietly pleased with my current showing.

On my next pass I spot AJ leaning nonchalantly against the barrier, silently applauding my efforts.

I go round a couple more times and then stop myself by crashing into him, fortunately his arms go round me automatically, stopping me from ending up on my butt.

"You're a natural." He says, smiling down at me.

"Better than you." I can't help but observe with a smile of my own.

"Be careful Bella." He growls playfully. "The ego of the male vampire is a fragile thing and mine has just been somewhat damaged."

Um. You can let go of me now . . . .

Please don't look at me like that. My higher brain functions can't handle it either.

For a moment I think he's going to kiss me, so much so that I almost whimper out loud when he releases me and turns away.

Brilliant. Now my brain _and_ body have it in for me where he's concerned. Blindly I follow him off the rink.

"What shall we do next?" He asks as we hand in our skates.

"Would you mind if we went back to the hotel and just read or watched a movie or something?"

"Not at all." He chuckles. "I know you have a very low tolerance for fun and I wouldn't dream of pushing it."

He's still laughing when the sickly sweet scent of vampire reaches us on the cool night air.

Wordlessly he takes my hand giving it a little squeeze and interestingly it doesn't even occur to me to yank it away. In fact I squeeze it back, trusting that whatever happens next he'll look after me.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 37 An Absence of Enmity**

**BPOV**

As soon as we round the next corner they come into view, two of them, tall, lanky and dark haired, leaning against the wall of the bar across the street. Obviously waiting for us.

One of them snaps a cell shut as we cross the street toward them.

"Look at their eyes." AJ growls quietly.

"Light red." I whisper, vaguely luminescent.

"They're very young, not exactly newborns but not more than a year or so old. Volatile. Stay behind me."

Done and done.

"Evenin'." AJ says easily as we stop a few feet away from them.

One of them jerks his chin toward the shadows of the alley, leading the way inside, with the other bringing up the rear. I'd be terrified but beside me a small smile decorates AJ's perfect lips for a moment and he squeezes my hand again.

I have seen him in action. We are in no danger. I have seen him in action. We are in no danger.

"What's your name?" The first one asks, the other one is still lurking around behind us, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Jasper."

"And the ho?"

"The lady's name is Bella." AJ corrects without heat.

"What are you doing in our territory?"

"Vacationing."

"Humph."

AJ shrugs lightly.

"We don't allow others to hunt in our territory."

"We won't. We're veggies."

Our 'host' raises an eyebrow and manages to look pissed at the same time. Mood swings, I remember them well . . . .

"We only drink animals." AJ expands.

"They're still our animals." The one behind us growls.

"Alright." AJ responds. "We're only here till tomorrow, we won't hunt until we're clear of your area."

AJ's easiness seems to be pissing them both off for some reason. I reckon they were in their late teens, early twenties, when they were changed and they both seem to be full of what Grandma Swan used to call 'piss and vinegar'. Spoiling for a fight and disappointed AJ's not giving them one. Me they're ignoring, which is fine by me, rampant sexism can occasionally work in a girl's favour.

"I think you should leave _now_." Number one snarls.

AJ shrugs and glances at me. "We were planning on spending a quiet night in."

"There's no fucking in our territory either unless we get to play too." Number one drawls, leering at me.

Beside me AJ stiffens, his face closing down, eyes darkening. Oops, nice to full on asshole mode in the blink of any eye.

Tentatively I squeeze his hand and he glances down at me briefly.

_Please_, I don't want a fight.

"Okay." He sighs. "We'll get our stuff and go."

He turns but the guy behind won't let us pass.

"What a pussy." He chuckles, poking the considerably larger AJ in the chest with a long dirty finger.

"We don't want any trouble son." AJ says quietly after an uncomfortable pause, attempting to brush by him.

"But you're gonna get it pretty boy." Number one snarls, grabbing me by the shoulders and jerking me out of AJ's grip.

I scream and start struggling frantically but AJ's deep, resonating, growl chills me into stillness. Even the air around us seems to have stopped moving.

"Let. Her. Go." He breathes quietly, crouching slightly, like a cobra ready to strike.

I feel the vampire behind me shake his head.

"Let her go or I will kill you." AJ says in a flat, emotionless, voice. "I won't warn you again."

"Let her go!" A voice orders as another, older, vampire turns the corner into the alley.

My assailant's grip falters and without thinking I deploy one of the less male friendly manoeuvres Em taught me and fling myself at Jasper. He catches me easily and turns my back to him, wrapping his big arms protectively around my body and withdrawing us to the brick wall.

"Tucker, Dale, what the fuck?" The new arrival demands as our two lanky friends draw together in the center of the alley.

"Name's Graeme." He adds as he approaches.

"Jasper and Bella." AJ offers.

"Hm, unusual name." Graeme ponders, nodding to himself. "You related to that fucker Whitlock?"

"He's my brother."

"Well then, when you see him, remind him he owes me two hundred dollars and a refrigerator, and it had better have an icebox." Graeme drawls. "What's going on?"

"We seem to have trespassed on your territory."

"Trespassed aye? Why are you here?"

"We're on vacation."

"Veggies?"

"Yes."

"Planning on causing any trouble?"

"No."

"When you leaving?"

"Tomorrow, we're heading east."

"Fair enough." Graeme sighs, visibly relaxing. "I apologise for these two, they're still feeling their oats."

Behind me AJ nods, his chin bobbing on the top of my head.

"Graeme . . . ." My assailant objects.

"Can it Dale. I know about this guy, you're fucking lucky I'm not stuck at home piecing you back together like a jigsaw." Graeme drawls. "Anything you wanna say to these boys Major? They're young and sorely in need of learning their lessons."

Giving me a squeeze AJ releases his grip and steps out into the alley, unfolding himself to his full height, casually removing his bulky coat and revealing the scars on his arms.

"Pussy?" He asks softly, raising an eyebrow.

The menace emanating from him makes me shiver and it seems to be having a similar effect on Tucker and Dale.

"You don't wanna start a fight with every vampire you meet." Graeme intones. "Cos you might end up meeting another one like this one an' it might turn out to be the last thing you ever do. Take a good look in his eyes, does he look like someone you wanna fuck with?"

The two of them shake their heads slightly.

"Good. This is The Major. Remember him an' stay outta his way."

Smiling coldly AJ dons his coat and gathers me back in his arms.

"Ma'am." Graeme gives me a little bow. "Apologies for the bad language and my boys."

I manage a small smile as AJ releases me and captures my hand again.

"Enjoy your stay." Graeme urges us.

"We will." AJ replies easily, fist lashing out and connecting with my assailant's head, knocking him into his friend and both of them into the opposite brick wall with a sound like a train wreck.

Without looking back he ushers me out of the alley to the sound of Graeme's laughter.

"Educating young vampires." AJ pontificates with a grin. "Is a universal problem."

…..

"Are you okay?" He asks as we ride up in the hotel lift.

I nod.

"I'm sorry your first encounter wasn't particularly easy but not every vampire is like that. Those two, young and still learning their control, they're prime examples of the type to avoid. The old guy was okay though."

Was he?

"He still seem kind of hard to me."

"Bella, not every vampire's life is easy. You need a degree of hardness to survive, to ensure the ones you care about survive, it doesn't mean you have to be a bad person. Graeme was worried that I'd do something to hurt his boys, he was trying to protect them in his way."

He's right, I know he is, but still . . . .

"Why does Pete owe him a refrigerator?"

"I have no idea." AJ laughs. "And I'm almost afraid to ask. I'll email him later and see."

Back in the room I sigh and heave myself onto the empty couch.

"You still want to waste the night reading?" He asks with a chuckle.

Oh yes, you have _no_ idea how badly I need to do something 'normal' at this point.

I nod.

"Fair enough. I'm going in the shower."

Lazily I reach down an extract the eBook reader from my backpack, intending to re-visit some nice, calm, nineteenth century fiction. Instead I soon find myself engrossed in a series of weighty civil war tomes.

I barely spare him a glance when he wanders back in, sitting cross legged on the floor and channel hopping with avid attention, but as always I'm acutely aware of everything he does.

And several hours later there he is, in print, Major Jasper Whitlock, the youngest Major in the confederate army. There isn't much but I re-read it several times. They say he was twenty three and I study him over the top of my reader. Relaxed like this he looks much younger, maybe not much older than me. Boyish even. Mind you he _is_ watching cartoons and snickering like a schoolboy. I love the way the tip of his nose dips down when he smiles, it's cute.

A couple of chapters later my eyes creep up again.

He really is beautiful. Perfect in every way, even all the scars clearly visible around his wife beater don't diminish it. And he isn't the total asshole I thought he was, is he?

Oh Jesus. What am I? The Asshole Fan Club, party of one?

Other people like him, _care_ about him, Esme and Carlisle, the Denalis, the mysterious Pete and they've all been on the receiving end of the less pleasant aspects of who he is. He had a wife, surely no woman, vampire, on earth would marry a total bastard?

Engage brain Bella, there's nothing wrong with your memory, one of his sides is _all_ asshole and it was _all _directed at you. Have some sense of self preservation . . . .

**JPOV**

Tonight, before the situation in the alley, she was having fun. And she was having fun with _me_.

I wanted to kiss her so badly and because her shield was up, I know she wanted it too. And, for once, not because she was in throes of some vampiric _urge_.

I don't know how I didn't do it. Fear I suppose. She might be softening slightly but I'm pretty sure she'll turn to stone again the second I make a move on her. And I really don't want to see that haughty expression on her face, or hear her call me an _asshole_ again in her soft caressing voice.

When she's engrossed in her book I risk a look up to stare at her, I do that a lot when she's not paying attention, because she's beautiful, absolutely perfect in every way.

I'm not sure how to woo, I can't recall ever having had to do it, or wanting to.

Sex is always easy to get when you look like me and have my particular empathic abilities. Relationships are something else entirely.

With Maria there was no wooing, I was encouraged to be 'hers' from the moment I opened my eyes and it was a very long, and shaming, time before I questioned it.

And Alice, my lovely wife, she knew from the outset that we'd be mates and it quickly became apparent that you don't doubt Alice. She even knew when I was going to ask her to marry me and had her outfit all planned out.

Bella is different in every respect and somehow I don't think 'I've grown accustomed to your presence and would like to keep it, fancy a shag' is going to cut much ice with her.

The truth is I have no idea what I should say to her.

I want her to know how sorry I am for everything I said and did. How much I wish I hadn't hurt her, how badly I want to take it back. How desperately I want her to start seeing me the way I'm seeing her. And above all I want her to be happy.

But I've no idea how to go about it. So here I am, stuck between a rock and a hard place, hoist with my own petard. Or royally screwed, as Em would probably put it.

**BPOV**

Eventually, with skin prickling all over, I decide I can't stay in the room with him any longer and take myself off for my own shower.

As the water pounds down on me, hotel showers are awesome, I force myself to think about him properly. Coming to the unfortunate conclusion that I may actually be starting to like him.

Not in the case of admiring a fine specimen of a man when you see one, I've been on that page for a long time, I've got eyes, hands, lips, memories, and an active imagination, all in need of regular quashing . . . .

No, I might actually be starting to like him as a person, bits of him anyway. He can be charming, witty, considerate. Take tonight, I'm pretty sure his natural inclination would have been to rip Tucker and Dale to shreds and worry about it afterwards, but he didn't. And the only reason he didn't was because I would have hated it. That's _extremely_ considerate whichever way you look at it.

I giggle, accidently ingesting some water, I bet that's the only time in his life he's ever been called a pussy, the look on his face was priceless.


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 38 It's Woo Jim . . . .**

**BPOV**

As promised we moved on in the morning, heading east.

Pausing on the way to enjoy some more vampire like pursuits.

Bowling. Requirements, thick trees and no humans. Pick your boulder, shape it and take your shot. It's hard to be useless under the circumstances but somehow I managed it.

Javelin. Pick your tree, strip the branches, throw. I was better at that, AJ's always plunged into the ground with great force, mine were more inclined to fly and scoot along the ground when they landed.

Anything that didn't involve some element of skill we ditched quickly. Races and tests of strength are pointless when Robopire is involved and apparently I'm a sore loser. Besides him teaching me to fight _properly_ as he puts it has caused enough trouble.

We've met two more lots of vampires, both reasonably friendly, the second set he made me deal with. I was terrified but we've been told we can come back any time we like, which was one hell of a confidence boost.

In St Louis we climbed The Gateway Arch in the dead of night. Well, we climbed one side, we used the other as a slide, that thing's nowhere near as smooth as it looks in the photos . . . .

St Louis is one of the biggest places I've been since I became a vampire and it wasn't easy for me. I resisted okay, but it was a constant effort. Knowing that New York is going to be much worse, further to go to hunt, was a bit sobering. I guess I shouldn't plan on staying there too long. Not least because I won't have AJ to look out for me.

Funny how I've stopped thinking about running away from him.

_Asshole_.

The nicer he is, and he is, the crosser it's currently making me.

The shift has been gradual over the last couple of weeks. And realising the cause hasn't really helped with controlling it. I haven't exactly turned back into an infantile bitch but he must have noticed the change as I've become quieter and more withdrawn again.

It won't be long now until we get to New York and though I can't wait to see Kate I'm going to lose something in exchange.

He's going to leave me and go back to Maine, to his family and his life.

As he should.

He's made his amends, actions speak louder than words. Earned his brownie points. Become important to me as a friend, mentor and protector. Helped me, spoilt me and corrupted me. No more sleazy motels or wonky mud huts for Bella Swan. He's taught me so much but I guess the time is coming for me to stand on my own two feet.

I don't know why the idea bothers me so much, I've been doing that all my life, I was always more of a grown up than mom. I got through my newborn years on my own with no idea what was happening to me. I made the best life for myself I could. I can do it again and I know so much more now, have so much more . . . .

Mr Billionaire has also been helping me invest what I've earned on our travels and although what started out small is still small it's currently growing at a rate that's making my head spin. In a hundred years maybe I'll be a billionaire too, not bad for a girl who can't hit a tree with a bowling ball the size of a dumpster . . . .

I still have that ethereal feeling that something's missing between us and it's getting stronger as time runs out. I'd considered it a link, wanted to sever it, now a deep part of me wants to bolster it and make it stronger.

Knowledge is power and I'd thought understanding would give me closure but his carefully and selectively revealed details about his life don't seem to have impacted either way. Neither have his equally conservative admissions about his motivations when we met.

Sometimes I think, maybe . . . .

Argh!

Sometimes, increasingly frequently, I think he's going to kiss me or tell me some inconceivable thing that sets my stupid brain racing in pointless anticipation. But he never does. He tells me I'm beautiful, mom used to say that too, that I'm clever, brave, funny, that he admires my strength. He teases me affectionately and is no longer so cautious about touching me. His touch no longer makes me jump, I'm accustomed to it now. I'm going to miss the simple comfort of it.

I'm not going to miss the constant suppression of my inner sex crazed vampire. That's just nasty. He'd run a mile a second if he knew . . . . .

But then perhaps that doesn't matter anymore, he's leaving soon anyway.

No, it does matter. I'll see him again one day I'm sure and I don't want it to be awkward. I couldn't bear it . . . .

Oh damn, I think I'm in the market for some fun and distraction. Why is he never around when you need him?

**JPOV**

I have pondered and considered woo. And come up with nothing. All the time painfully aware that a deadline is approaching.

Alice would have loved a diamond necklace, Maria a sweet smelling human, gifted vampire or strategic territory. See the difficulty?

Bella's bought her own laptop. Has decided on her own that a car is superfluous to requirements. Has no misguided interest in world domination. Invested her own meagre earnings wisely. What value do I add?

I have had to accept that buying or obtaining her something to express my affection is of absolutely no use whatsoever.

I know she's still afraid, now that her eyes have been opened to the reality of the world around her, but she's not that afraid that she won't face it without a bodyguard.

There have been times . . . .

Times when I thought an advance or confession of my burgeoning feelings wouldn't have been summarily rejected. But they were maybe just wishful thinking. I don't know. Sometimes I suspect that her growing distance is about our impending separation. That perhaps she's going to miss me as much as I will her, she's becoming a lodestone of my existence . . . .

Then I remember that I'm an asshole and it's a miracle she's put up with me for this long.

I want . . . .

I want a new personality and a completely fresh start. And 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride'.

I'm glad I never met Grandma Swan, I've a feeling her 'truisms' I would have made me want to drain her out of a sense of self preservation . . . .

Of course I could just tell her. That I like her, ask her out on a date, whatever the hell one of those is . . . .

Or I could just show her. The next time we're in one of those weird eye meets where the rest of the world fades unnoticed into the background I could kiss her. Actions speak louder than words. I believe I've even said so myself once . . . .

**BPOV**

It's a tradition now for us to go dancing the last night in any town. Every town seems to have a bar with live music and crowds of mellow and happy locals, you just need to know where to look . . . .

I don't have quite his level of disregard for human dignity when it comes to teasing the patrons. I won't, for example, zip around the dance floor at vampire speed pulling drunken men's pants down. But I don't mind mixing up drinks on the tables or messing with the barman when he's filling a long order, it's fun to see how long it takes them to work out that the drinks they're busy pouring are all disappearing.

And I've come to love dancing with him too. He's good and I can relax and let go of my inhibitions. And of course having an excuse to be this close to him is never a bad thing. Well it is, it always gives me grief afterwards, but at the time . . . .

On the other side of the dance floor one of the drunks is still loudly, but good naturedly, accusing his friends of ripping his trousers down.

Laughing quietly I look up to find AJ staring down at me intently.

Oh help.

"Bella . . . ." He breathes and I watch in helpless anticipation as his face descends to mine.

Shivering all over as he rubs his cheek lightly against mine, ghosts his nose around the shell of my ear, cool breath tickling my skin as he works his way back and forth.

"Bella . . . ."

His mouth delicately teases my top lip, pulling at it slightly, his nose bumping lightly against mine.

He sucks the _ecstatic_ lip briefly between his own and tingles flash across my skin, my face tilting up, lips wanting to be locked with his.

"Bella . . . ." He sighs into my mouth as he slants his down over it, cupping my face gently with his long fingers and pulling it closer.

Oh Jesus, it feels like my answering gasp comes all the way up from feet, rudely awakening every non-living cell in my body along the way . . . .

Helplessly I clench my tiny hands on his broad shoulders. I don't know whether it's to hold myself up or stop him getting away. And I don't care, this is perfect . . . .

Vaguely I'm aware that we've stopped dancing as his tongue slides into my mouth and we both inhale a sharp breath. His fingers slide around my face and tighten in my hair as mine slide down his body and fasten on his hips.

I kiss him back with everything that I have, desperate to communicate something and with a groan he responds, deepening the kiss to scandalous proportions, his tongue moving sensuously and seriously around my mouth in a way that has my knees buckling.

"_Disgusting_." A middle aged lady growls as she twirls past with her avidly ogling partner.

Oh, please, _don't _. . . .

Pulling back he gazes down into my face and I stare back mutely in amazement, wonder and disappointment. Then embarrassment and regret assert themselves and I hang my head.

"I'm sorry darlin'." He murmurs after a moment, tucking me back into some semblance of a dance hold, chin resting lightly on the top of my head. "I've been wanting to do that for a while now, I couldn't help myself, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Lips tingling, knees wobbling and stomach rotating crazily, I nod my head mutely into his chest.

I'll never understand him. He kisses me like that, soft, sweet, _thorough_, with a promise of so much more. Turns me to putty in his big hands. Then says sorry and returns to chaste dancing as if nothing happened.

Argh!

And

Argh!

I don't understand, I'm so confused . . . .

No maybe I'm not, maybe he's been through the same thought process as me.

I might be as innocent as new driven snow, well I was, but I _know_ there's attraction between us. Just like I also know that that doesn't necessarily mean anything, I had sex with him when I hated him after all. If he's come to the same conclusion as me, that it's not worth ruining our burgeoning friendship for, then that's a good thing surely?

I wish my body and I were on the same page, I really do . . . .

I should feel proud, I think, of my mature attitude to the whole thing. But that kiss, _our_ kiss, is a nonsensical reminder of the things I'm about to lose. Or not. I'll be keeping his friendship surely?

We _are _friends now, I think, and it's taken an awful lot to get us here. He's right, we're both right. Best not to spoil it, not when we're so close to going our separate ways . . . .

Argh!

I'm not equipped to deal with this, think this through, I'm a kid for fuck's sake, forever seventeen and about to lose something important from my life, why does being immortal mean I should have all the answers?

I sigh heavily.

"Done dancing?" He asks, leaning back to smile down at me.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Come on." He says, wrapping an arm around my neck and dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "Let's go and get some dinner before we head back to the hotel."


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 39 Instinct**

**BPOV**

Melting into the darkness we head for the hills and I mentally curse wearing a dress and high heels, really not all of his influence on me has been entirely beneficial. The shoes I can carry, the dress, well, it will end up torn and spattered with blood. And it was a lovely dress, a cream silk shift that hugs my curves and shows off my straight shoulders, long neck and unnaturally perfect legs.

Did I mention I'd been corrupted? Billionaire vampires.

Splitting up, as usual, we go in search of our own prey.

I should probably consider doing something radical and brave, like telling him I'm going to miss him when we go our separate ways, who knows he might not even laugh. He might buff me on the head and say 'me too kid' or, crazy thinking, he might offer to come to New York with me, or invite me back to Maine for a visit afterwards. Hell even a, meet me in St Louis, in two years is better than never seeing him again.

I know I'm being silly but I don't want him to go, I'm not ready for that yet, or something . . . .

With a sigh of relief I give myself over to the hunt, temporarily pushing my ridiculous worries and concerns into the background, all of a sudden I'm really thirsty.

If only there was a way to keep him with me . . . .

The blood tastes surprisingly good and cools my throat, leaving me with a strong desire for more. Deliberately I tear my dress, giving myself more freedom to move before I accidently shred it completely. Done with burying my kill I glide forward into the night, scenting the air and calmly allowing the thought trails to be shut down in my head.

He's out there, I can smell him, the forest after rain.

There has to be a way to keep him with me, it feels like there is, somewhere on the periphery . . . .

The tantalising scent of carnivore distracts me again, warm, wet, blood causing venom to pool in my mouth and a feral sneer to form on my face. The need to hunt and kill is strong tonight, I've no idea what's brought it on and little chance of working it out if I continue to let my higher brain functions slip away like water through my fingers. We're a long way from civilisation here, it should be safe . . . .

My senses hone to a fine point as I zero in on the big cat, stalking him silently over the rocks, swallowing down more venom as I anticipate the feel of his sweet blood sliding down my parched throat. I need in the worst possible way but even so I allow him to escape the first time, flashing through the moonlit landscape after him like a wraith, eventually bringing down in a grassy bowl ringed by rocks and trees. Moaning in pleasure as the hot thick liquid pours out of his vein into my waiting mouth, filling me with inexplicable convictions and crackling energy.

We have a connection, I know it, I just need to . . . .

Mmm. I close my eyes, slowing my swallows, wanting to savour the sensation, draw it out as long as possible but knowing I'm going to hunt again. I still need, want . . . .

I can smell another carnivore, its blood calling to me but it's already being hunted, by him.

I hear it hiss and lash out, hear the slice of claws through cotton, the quiet laugh.

And then them running, coming toward me, the cat's heart thundering in its chest, its blood tearing through its veins, the quiet footfalls of nature's greatest predator chasing it down.

The cat bursts into the bowl first, performing a back flip when it spots me, crouched there with my own kill. Then it cuts away at right angles, leaping for a boulder. It doesn't make it though, two big arms close around its chest, bearing it to the ground, a shoulder neatly snapping its neck.

Teeth flash, sinking into its throat. I can hear the final beats of its heart, the dying swoosh of its blood, the sound of it flowing down his throat with each strong pull. Smell it . . . .

My recent obsession with blood is gone though. I have no desire to muscle in on his kill. Other things have the imperative now . . . .

He's perfect. Handsome, strong, intelligent, _worthy_ . . . .

Rising to my feet I stare at him in silence, totally immobile.

Watching his throat working as he drains his kill in vigorous pulls.

Does he even know I'm here?

Yes. His eyes focus on me suddenly, as if I've called out to him, travelling intently over my body and turning to pitch as they arrive at my face.

Meal forgotten.

I start to breathe, drawing in deep even lung fulls of the fresh night air and his scent. And his breathing adjusts to it, perfectly in tune, mirroring.

There's blood on his lips, running down his chin, splashing onto his pale grey t-shirt.

Mine to keep.

I can feel something building in me, with each breath, pressure and resolve . . . .

Pressure to act. Resolve that this is the right thing to do.

Right.

_Keep_.

Even the air between us now seems to be crackling with weird energy as we stare into each other's eyes.

I'm going to run . . . . I can feel the tension coiling in my muscles . . . . run hard . . . . and he is going to catch me . . . . because he is stronger . . . . and faster . . . .and this is what I want . . . .

I blink and he growls softly, lip curling and revealing his razor sharp teeth.

He doesn't scare me, not anymore, my instincts _know_ better.

I smile, showing my own teeth.

And he stops breathing, becoming unnaturally still.

Its time.

Whirling I run, excitement and something I don't quite recognise surging through me. Confidence?

He's coming, I can hear him, the denim rubbing together on his hard thighs. I look back over my shoulder. His power is mesmerising. Muscled arms pumping, hair blown back from his face, black eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

And I laugh, filled with something powerful of my own, revelling in the sound of rocks and stones flying away from our flashing feet.

His answering growl sets all of my nerve ends jangling and jolts electricity through every hair on my head.

It's a short chase.

I knew it would be.

And I laugh again as his body crashes into mine, carrying us both to the ground.

His hands are everywhere, roving over my bare skin, as he nuzzles his face in my hair.

But this isn't exactly what I want.

As much as I'm able I arch my body up into his and he responds, pulling me up onto my arms and knees, rubbing himself against me, growling low in his throat.

Purring like a cat I rock back on my arms, turning to look up at him over my shoulder as I push my rear at him.

With an answering rumble in his chest he rips my bra and dress away in one fluid movement, his own clothes following suit.

I flaunt myself at him, I _need_ him to do this, _accept_ this . . . .

With black eyes boring into me he deliberately leans down, flipping my hair forward over my shoulder, scrapping his teeth along the exposed skin as he takes hold of my hips and I scream in pleasure and anticipation as he plunges his hard length inside me.

Both of us grunting softly as our bodies come together, repeatedly, with his strong thrusts.

I want him . . . . I want him faster and deeper . . . . I want _every_ drop of _everything_ he has to give . . . . I want all of him . . . . And he's going to give it to me, I can _feel_ it, I _know_ it . . . .

With an exultant roar he throws his head back as he cums inside me, holding my hip so hard I groan in pain, but his hand stroking between my thighs brings on a sensation that obliterates it. As he rolls through the heavy swell of his own orgasm mine starts, exploding abruptly outwards from where he's touching me, tightening me around him like a steel band and his second throaty roar twists into the night sky with mine.

I push back against him one last time, riding out the waves of gratification and he roars again, throwing himself forward and sinking his teeth into the muscle at the base of my neck.

I scream again in ecstasy, pain and triumph as his shuddering body collapses on top of me, crushing me into the dirt.

_Mine._


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 40 Strange Day**

**BPOV**

_Mine_.

Sentience and personality don't come back all in one go, there is no sudden lifting of the veil, only the gradual seeping of 'real' thoughts invading my consciousness.

And for quite a while the only one I could bestir myself to recognise was 'mine'.

I was enjoying it for some reason. Happy and content. Satisfied and complete.

Some of the other stuff floating around in my blissfully empty head I put down ruthlessly, like a dictator stomping on a rebellion. The problem is with a vampire brain that doesn't last for very long.

I've done something, something I shouldn't have. I'm not sure I understand what, but the conviction is strong.

Something other than . . . .

Holy Crap!

I've done it again.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"Mmm." He snuggles his face further into my hair, sighing happily.

It's like a shot of Prozac, the sudden tension drains out of me like I've been poured through a strainer, leaving it all behind a big gooey lump. It's such an alien sensation that briefly I wonder if he's influencing my emotions.

My instinct is to fight it, I should not be happy and relaxed at this point, I should be . . . . Well, I should be doing something other than lying here ignoring the fact that he's draped over me like a comforter, hands and body still intimately joined with mine.

But my brain still isn't working right and the desire to stay where I am smothers everything else like a pall of thick white fog.

Perhaps I should take advantage of the unexpected calm to think through what the hell just happened. My memories are odd, strangely staccato, not exactly gaps, more like bits where the soundtrack of my thoughts are missing, like a silent movie spliced in with reality. I was there, I remember, but somehow I wasn't thinking at the time and there's no context to what happened, just vague subtitles. _Mine._

I remember the kiss, the perfection of it, my regret and tangled emotions when it ended.

His easy affection as we left the bar and made our way up into the hills.

The pang of impending loss, piercing me through like a knife.

I remember being really thirsty, allowing myself to be consumed by the hunt, taken over by my vampire instincts.

I wanted something from him and though I may be deluding myself, I don't think it was just sex . . . .

He chased me, it was exhilarating.

He caught me.

And oh my god! I wiggled my bare ass in his face! Like a dog on heat.

Inwardly I groan, screwing my eyes tight shut. Shame and mortification washing over me in hot coruscating waves.

What's wrong with me?

I wanted him to fuck me. Not make love to me, worship me with his body or any other number of slightly less sordid euphemisms for a romantically idealized coupling.

I wanted him to fuck me like an animal.

And I wanted him to bite me even more . . . .

Oh shit, he bit me!

My arm whips around to the back of neck, fingers gently feeling. It's sore, a little bit sticky with oozing venom, and amazingly for my indestructible skin, I can feel the indentations of his teeth.

He fucking bit me!

Struggling wildly I manage to shift his limp form off and out of me, climbing to my feet, shaking all over.

He bit me on the scruff of the neck like a fucking dog.

What the hell have I done?

Poised to run I l risk a glance back down at him.

**JPOV**

I kissed her.

It was amazing. Not like anything I can remember.

So perfect, I experienced a momentary desire to get as far away from her as my legs would carry me.

What's terrifying is how fleeting that desire was. Such a tiny insignificant speck in time.

I had such plans for tonight.

She didn't push me away. She didn't denounce me as an asshole. She kissed me back and for a moment I was an innocent human boy again. Filled with, ah hell, I don't know what the fuck that emotion was but I was enjoying it.

I let it end. I had every intention of declaring myself as soon as we got back to the hotel. Every optimistic hope that she'd let me kiss her again. That it would be the start of something, I'm not sure what, but something, something new and unknown . . . .

So why is it Whitlock, that you are currently buried inside her and crushing her into the dirt?

Did we have that conversation, did it go better than my wildest dreams?

I'm frightened to move. Deeply concerned about what might happen next . . . .

Totally fucking clueless about how we came to be here, like this.

I remember stuff.

We left the bar, she was so relaxed she let me put my arm around her, drop a kiss on the top of her head.

We ran for about an hour. She has such a fluid run, graceful, her high heels jostling together in her hand.

We split up, high on the mountain, she likes to hunt alone.

I found a mountain lion, I was hunting it, then, nothing . . . .

Not quite nothing.

She was so beautiful. And she needed me.

I just can't really recall what she needed. Or if I gave it to her.

But, damn, I certainly gave her something.

She stirs beneath me.

And, utterly content, I snuggle into her with a sigh, almost purring as she relaxes under me.

I have a terrible feeling I'm going to be in a whole heap of trouble sometime soon, is it cowardice to put if off as long as possible?

Time ticks inexorably by.

I feel like a thief, stealing this intimate moment with her but I can't ever remember feeling this relaxed, ever. My superhuman body feels like a formless lump of putty, my mind, which should be in overdrive, calm and content. What's the deal with that? I have gaps in my memory, the vampire equivalent of a terrifying nightmare, I should be freaking out and trying to work out what happened. But I can't seem to focus on it long enough to _care_.

Other than being relaxed, and surprisingly post coital with the object of my affections, everything seems normal. I can hear, see and smell as well as ever. I know exactly how much time has passed, how long until the sun comes up, but I have only a hazy recollection of what just happened. Is it the same for her, is that why she's still here, what did I miss?

I can smell venom, its acrid aroma mixed with the scent of flowers.

That gets me more alert.

Somewhere around here venom has been spilt, _her_ venom . . . .

The smell is so strong now I can almost taste it on my tongue. Shit I can taste it on my tongue!

Apparently both of us have just come to the same unfathomable conclusion because she fights her way out of my grasp and surges to her feet, breathing hard, eyes wild, one hand clamped to the back of her neck.

"You bit me." She accuses in that special tone of voice she reserves for telling me I'm asshole.

**BPOV**

"I . . . ." He can't find any words, in fact he looks as freaked out as I feel. If you can look freaked out when you are stretched out on the rocks in nothing but a pair of hand tooled cowboy boots . . . .

"It hurts." I huff, poking at it gently with my fingers, flight abruptly forgotten.

In a flash he's on his feet, pulling my hair and hand gently away from the wound.

"Is it bad?" I whisper.

For a moment he doesn't answer and I fear the worst, maybe he's torn a damn great chunk out of me or something.

"No." He says finally in an odd voice. "It's just a little ring of teeth marks. Its, um, er, never mind, its fine, no one will see it under your hair."

"What are you doing?" I squeal, trying to jump away from him as his tongue strokes gently over the mark.

"Helping it heal and reducing the scar." He murmurs, holding me firmly and easily in place. "Keep still, it will sting a bit but close over much quicker."

He's licking the back of my neck and I'm not stopping him, this is turning out to be one hell of a strange day . . . .

"Scar?"

"Just a small one."

I sigh in resignation and he releases my hair to cascade down my back.

I close my eyes.

So much to think about all of a sudden, thought trails like poison arrows coming at me from every direction. All demanding my attention. Shame for acting like a wanton hussy. Guilt, I've done something bad, I know I have. Anger at being scarred by an over enthusiastic love bite from an asshole. Confusion, about all of it, but not least why I'm not halfway to New York by now leaving him, and whatever this is, far behind me. Planning how to accomplish it. Already thinking about how the hell I could explain _this_ to Kate . . . .

"Before you run." He says quietly, interrupting my whirlwind thoughts which immediately form an orderly and patient line, well that's weird . . . .

"At least hear me out. There are some things I need to say to you."

What? You want to have a polite conversation while we're standing around here naked?

"It might be better if we sit down, or something . . . ."

I open my eyes which are immediately drawn to his straining erection. Oh Jesus, will this torture never end?

"I'm a man." He says, embarrassed. "I can't help it, it might be less, um, oh for fuck's sake just sit down somewhere!"

Obediently I fold myself down behind a rock, peering at him over the top of it as his settles himself cross legged in front of me. Supressing a sudden urge to laugh as he picks up his dusty hat and arranges it carefully on his lap. No matter what happens that damn hat always seems to be close by . . . .

"_This_." He says heavily, closing his eyes briefly. "Is not at all what I had planned."

My eyebrow sneaks up while he's not looking.

Damn, busted.

He sighs.

I don't know what he wants to say but I seem to be making it hard for him somehow. The knowledge upsets me for some reason but I've no idea what I'm supposed to do about it.

"I'm sorry I bit you." He says. "I don't remember doing it and I don't know why I did. I've never . . . ."

Well that's comforting, there's really no end to what you don't know is there?

"Bella, please, forgive me."

I stare at him. For all the different sides of him I've seen, this is a new one, his face is open, honest, he really means it, _needs_ it.

"Just don't do it again." I mutter gracelessly.

With a mirthless laugh he hangs his head slightly, blonde hair falling forward over his face. "I don't even know why I did it in the first place."

"What happened?" I ask.

He shrugs, fixing his gold eyes on mine. "I don't remember, do you?"

"No, not really." Not quite a lie, but still enough of one to make me avert my eyes. I _know_ I had something to do with it.

"Bella, last night, when we left the bar, there was something I wanted to say to you."

I nod, bracing myself, suspecting that I'm not going to like it. He's going to apologise for that perfect kiss, tell me he didn't mean it, was only acting on some lusty vampire instinct . . . .

"Bella, I've really come to _like_ you over the last few weeks. Um, ah shit, I'm no good with words." He starts to get up.

"Don't you dare." I squeak, ducking down behind my rock. I don't need to see that again, not right now.

"You're making this really hard." He growls lightly.

I can't help it, I snicker like a schoolgirl and he smiles suddenly, it's like the sun coming out. He really is beautiful, even sat there in the dirt with a disreputable cowboy hat covering his privates.

"Bella Swan." He says seriously. "Would you like to come on a date with me?"

I blink.

"In New York?"

Another blink.

Oh there's so much wrong with this picture I don't even know where to start.

My romantic experience is entirely confined to fiction, _old_ fiction. Somehow I can't see Jane or Elizabeth's bosoms heaving at such an offer, made under such bizarre circumstances. I could certainly have never imagined it. But then nothing about my life has turned out how I imagined or hoped. Not that I hoped for much. But I had hoped that he wouldn't leave me, wouldn't want to. That he wants to take me on a date, well, there aren't words. Of course it's a bit like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted . . . .

Oh shut up brain!

I know my current feelings don't make any sense at all but I don't care, Elizabeth can keep Mr Darcy, the thought of going on a date with AJ is currently making me the happiest I've ever been in my entire life.

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to give me the silent treatment anymore?" He sighs.

I hurdle the rock in an instant, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and then flinging myself back to safety.

"Well then." He drawls, looking as surprised as I am. "I'll take that as a yes, shall I?"


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 41 We're Going Through Changes**

**BPOV**

The weird atmosphere from that night persisted for a while. We were either pensive and thoughtful or wild and stupid, and not always both of us at the same time. I didn't really understand it and neither did he, we were, I think, both just relieved that we weren't dealing with it on our own. Which is kind of odd since if we hadn't been together whatever it was would never have happened in the first place. Or something like that. I have, of course, obsessively over analysed _everything_. From my frankly disturbing debut as sex siren to his asking me out on a date. The former still embarrasses me while the latter is still causing little cartwheels of joy in my stomach. Beyond that I've come to no earth shattering conclusions. I do, however, have a lingering sense that I've _done_ something . . . .

But as is the way, some semblance of normality, normal to me anyway, re-asserted itself. Although some things have definitely changed.

We can't seem to stop touching each other. I've no complaints there. I feel much calmer when he's holding my hand or his fingers are gently caressing the scar on the back of my neck. I know the scar thing should creep me out but I love it, so much so that I often embarrass myself by purring like a cat. It doesn't hurt that this seems to make him very happy.

He hasn't kissed me again, yet. I'm not sure where I stand on that. I want him to but I suppose I'm a little scared of what comes afterwards. I realise that's odd as I've already had sex with him twice, well, once and whatever the hell that last thing was. But the thing is, as I never intended for either of them to happen in some strange way that means they don't count. In my mind at least I'm still a virgin, with a virgin's fears about changing the status of same, the whole vampire thing just muddies the waters. As does the fact that my first ever date is going to be with a man, a widower, nothing like the 'boy next door' scenario most seventeen year olds would find themselves in. A man I've already been intimate with more than once. I've no idea what to expect or what he expects and my vacillation between excitement and terror is doing nothing at all to help with the current level of oddness surrounding us.

Before we returned to civilisation AJ went off and did his manly duty of procuring us some clothes. He wasn't gone long and came back muttering about feeling uncomfortable. I didn't say anything, guilt again, but I knew _exactly_ how he felt. The truth is with unspoken consent we've stopped doing anything that doesn't involve the close proximity of the other. It's not exactly painful, just very, very uncomfortable. Like a big piece of elastic is trying to pull me back to his side and it's a little bit frightening.

There are other things that fall into that category.

Jealousy. I cannot ever in my life remember being jealous of anything, it just wasn't in my nature. Rich kids at my school, beautiful popular girls in my year, people who could walk without tripping on a flat stable surface, kids whose parents were still together. I could take all of it in my stride. Just like I used to find it fascinating the effect AJ had on women, even more so when he was trying, the flirt. Not anymore. Apparently I have now become the world's most territorial _prospective_ date.

Take my last, for the time being, foray into the work place. NY is going to be expensive and I want to have fun so I was keen to add a few more dollars to my funds.

To my relief we managed to find work in the same bar, the usual kind of place and AJ was the usual draw, with women flocking around the bar area like mildly adrenalized geese. I was so prepared to be amused that an indulgent smile had already formed on my lips.

It took some will power to _keep_ it there.

Their whispered comments about how handsome he was were annoying. The occasional overheard discussion about what they'd like him to do to them were infuriating. But it was when one of them actually touched him that we almost reached _incensed_. She was blonde, the kind we all love to hate, perky, and she practically threw herself over the bar in an effort to stuff her phone number in his pants pocket.

It was very nearly the last thing she ever did.

But whatever it is that's changing seems to be affecting us both. And the consequences of AJ reaching _incensed_ are always going to be a lot more serious. A salutary reminder that he may be many things, but a big cuddly teddy bear isn't one of them.

That first night was eventful enough. AJ knew something was wrong with me but not what and eventually he concluded that I just needed to hunt, funny how we all assume a good dose of blood is the cure for all ills . . . . I digress. The next night was worse.

When the bar owner, Phil, confessed to the doorman that his new waitress was 'a hot piece of ass begging for a good seeing to' that she was definitely 'going to get' I had to unbend the new barman's, AJ's, fingers from his neck one at a time. The poor man had a cardiac arrest and we had to call the EMTs and skip town.

He was sorry and didn't know why he'd done it, natch, but sorry isn't good enough. I don't know what his wife used to let him get away with but such a lack of self control, even under the guise of gallantry, cuts no ice with me. They were just words, even in his wildest dreams the guy had no hope of acting on them and AJ's reaction was way over the top.

He hasn't done it again but I've seen him fighting the urge a time or two.

Maybe it's only someone like me who considers that level of restraint, in someone like him, romantic. And, not for the first time, I have to consider that I'm properly insane, or something worse, at this point.

Not all the changes are quite so dramatic and worrying. He says I smell different, for example. I haven't noticed and when we smelt some of the clothes I haven't worn for a while the scent seemed the same to me. But he's adamant there's been a change, that I smell more like him. The only conclusion we could come to was that some of his venom got into my system when he bit me and that being the case it will probably wear off the more blood I consume. It makes sense but it doesn't really explain why I can't smell the difference.

With nothing we need to do and a lot on our minds we decided just to pack up and head for New York.

And that's one of the other things that has changed.

Even though it's only been a few days AJ and I have become a we.

**JPOV**

I still have no idea what happened or why the hell I bit her but the sight and feel of my teeth marks in her perfect skin does strange things to me. Evokes strange feelings.

First off remorse, I've never actually bitten anyone I like before, except Pete and he was, quite understandably as it happens, trying to kill me at the time. Neither have I ever mauled a sex partner, not even when I was young and struggling with my control, I've never been _that_ kind of a monster.

So the reason why I would have bitten Bella completely eludes me.

However I can't deny that there's something about the idea of her carrying my teeth marks for eternity that is deeply satisfying, not to mention _extremely_ erotic. Now I can be as kinky as the next vampire, forever is a long time to stay in the missionary position, but even _I_ find that weird.

I love that she doesn't mind me touching it and I can't describe the feeling of utter contentment it gives me to caress it with my fingers, or the pleasure of hearing her purr. Vampires do purr, Alice used to after spectacular sex, Rose does it when Em strokes her left knee, Esme when Carlisle massages her feet, Pete when Char brushes his hair. And my hopeful daydreams about what might happen if she ever lets me kiss it. Phew, thank god she can't read my mind . . . .

Despite my rather crass proposal she seems excited about the idea of our date and I have every intention of making it as special as I possibly can. Because she deserves it and I still have an awful lot to make up for. I've no idea where we'll go from there but I have _romantic_, half formed ideas on the matter.

Jesus, sometimes I don't recognise myself anymore. Pete certainly wouldn't.

As for the rest of it . . . .

Its freaky.

Things are definitely changing.

We're much more touchy feely than we used to be. It's nice but it's also extremely disturbing. Oh, I still want to fuck her senseless, she's beautiful, insightful and sexy, I'd be a fool not to. But just simply being able to hold her hand is a new kind of a pleasure of its own. And a complete unknown one.

Maybe I am a pussy? I never used to be, _damn_ her.

Considering how old I am it's no surprise that some of the comments modern men direct at ladies are at odds with my upbringing, though frankly I've made similar when Em and I have been allowed out clubbing alone, they perhaps weren't ladies though. It's always bothered me for them to be made about Bella, but now, Jesus, I can _feel _my eyes go black, my venom boiling. It's fucking torture. She's _mine_. Well she isn't, but I feel like she should be. She'd have a shit fit if she knew the possessive bullshit that's rattling around in my brain all of a sudden, like a fucking caveman I just want to drag her away from everything by her luscious hair.

She smells like me now and guiltily I have to accept that it's my venom mixed with hers. She thinks I'm nuts but since my sense of smell has always been more acute than hers, well anyone's, I'm inclined to think I'm right. It will probably fade over time as she feeds and replenishes her own venom. This upsets me for some reason but I've no plan to bite her again, no matter what happens, I can't bear the idea of hurting her and I can't stomach the idea of her being mad at me.

Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.

Me-fucking-ow.

We're heading for New York right now. Just moving seemed like the best thing we could do, though I suspect our reasons are different, I for one, just couldn't stand to be away from her.

I insisted we hire a car, you can't properly enjoy the metropolis if you arrive with nothing but a backpack and worn out shoes. Well maybe she's right and we can, but it isn't good enough for her.

I've wanted her for such a long time now that the recent escalation is hardly any different. But, no matter what the pain, I'm going to wait until we've had our date. My body burns with the desire to possess hers, _burns_, but she needs so much better than an uncontrolled vampiric urge, she needs to know she's _wanted_. If I can give her nothing else, and why should I be able, I can at least give her that.

In the meantime I have an overpowering urge to give her _me._

Possibly not the best urge I've ever chosen to give into. I might not even get that date when she knows the whole ugly truth. But I feel compelled to know she's coming on a date with _me_ and no one else.

Apparently the recent changes have also turned me into a fucking idiot.


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 42 Journey and Arrival**

**BPOV**

I'd never wanted to know any of this, even the details the others provided had always seemed like too much. Not because I didn't care, quite the opposite, I didn't want any reason to care, or to feel sorry for him. He didn't deserve it, certainly not from me.

He recited the whole thing in his dispassionate Asshole voice. He could have been reading me the white pages, or the complete works of Shakespeare backwards. It took several hours and left me with no clue how to respond. So instead I do the only thing I can think of, I reach for his hand.

"I guess it's a lot to process." He says heavily, breaking the long silence that's filled the car like smoke.

"Just give me time." I whisper**.** "I don't even have a frame of reference for half of what you've told me."

"Okay." He sighs, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles and making a show of concentrating on the road ahead.

The truth is I don't know what to say to him. It needs so much more than platitudes. And how can I comment if I don't know how I feel about any of it? Alright over achieving brain, time to make yourself useful . . . .

I can't help comparing his start in this life to mine and wondering for the first time which one of us was actually worse off.

I opened my eyes to the sky. He was in a candlelit cave, held down by four other vampires as he thrashed and screamed trying to escape. He got free, accidentally ripping the arm of one of his jailers, the memory of the metallic screech and lack of blood still sets his teeth on edge to this day. He ran but he didn't get very far. He was attacked and brought down before he could reach daylight, got his first taste of losing his own limbs.

Maria brought them back, with a little snack, and I do mean little, my first meal was a hiker, his was a terrified child snatched from her home. His sire knew damn well a newly awakened vampire wouldn't be able to resist and _exactly_ what the consequences on his psyche would be later.

It seems she employs quite a repertoire of techniques to bend newborn vampires to her will. Blood, brutality, blackmail, sex, torture, affection. Lavish rewards and grotesque punishments. She used them all on AJ but since he was physically strong even for a newborn the one that worked best was love, she convinced him that she loved him and the boy who'd grown up on the farm and then gone away to war had no idea what was really going on.

He said he should have done but I'm not so sure. Waking up a vampire is about as disorientating as it gets, having someone there who _cares_ about must form an awfully strong bond. Anyway she restored to more brutal methods of controlling him later, when he gained more understanding of his gift and recognised her true emotions. By that time it was hardly necessary, he knew no other life, the only escape he could see was to form a coven and army of his own, something he couldn't bring himself to do. Others did though, Cornell for one, that shocked me, that Maria was also Cornell's sire. If nothing else she knows how to spot a good looking man.

When AJ fell out of her thrall he was quite surprised that she didn't just have him killed but the truth was she'd grown to rely on his abilities. His control and training of the newborns, culling them when they lost their edge, his battle strategies, the new territory he helped her acquire.

And time passed. Unlike a normal newborn he never got weaker and slower as he aged. Instead he became calm, focussed and lethal. Or dead from the heart up as he put it.

Then he met Pete. The only vampire he made he hasn't killed, until me. He says Pete's one of those people who'll just keep being your friend until you give in and accept it. Apparently it took a while, by that point AJ thought he was beyond simple friendship. Nevertheless he did come to trust Pete and he must have come to care about him too because when he tried to save Charlotte AJ let them go.

The next decade, he said, was the worst. So when Pete and a more reluctant Char came back for him he actually left with them. Maria pursued them for a while, her Major was too big an asset to just give up, but her increasingly vicious feud with Cornell soon distracted her.

This isn't a book and a happy ever after did not follow. Taking The Major, as AJ had become known, away from the war did not take the war away from the man. He was _unpleasant_ to live with for a very long time. Quick tempered, selfish, vicious, destructive, depressed.

The rest, albeit some of it pretty horrific, is just details. A nasty backdrop to a sobering tale.

It's a lot to think about and it feels like chewing through rocks. There's still a lingering part of me that wants to judge him, god knows I should, he's hardly an innocent victim, he had choices, they might have been difficult to see under the circumstances, but they were there. But I can't and I won't. I don't really understand it but I feel like I've already accepted him, warts and all, that it's too late to send him back because he's corked.

I'm surprised however that he and I are similar in one respect. He doesn't feel sorry for himself, and I can't feel sorry for him either, very strange for me, even Charlie always said I had a bleeding heart. AJ has to take responsibility for the things he's done, nothing and no one can absolve him of that, although a lot of people seem to have tried, what's up to him is what he chooses to do next. He's come such a long way, is it unreasonable to expect him to complete the journey?

I don't think so. And I don't mind helping, if he'll let me, if I can.

His thumb is still obsessively rubbing my knuckles.

It takes some guts to admit to all of that I imagine. Make no excuses for it. Lay yourself open to be judged by someone who can't possibly even begin to understand . . . .

Oh damnation.

I think . . . .

Oh fuck . . . .

"We should stop and hunt before we get too close to the city." He observes, averting my impending mental crisis.

…..

Wow.

Nothing can prepare you for actually seeing this in the flesh.

New York.

It's like a living thing. Pulsating quietly and breathing steam as we little specks dart about over its surface.

Thank god I can't get neck ache as I strain to look at everything at once.

Chuckling AJ grabs my hand, once again rubbing his thumb over my knuckles as he deftly negotiates the traffic, which seems insane even to a vampire. And for a moment it's suddenly too much and I lock myself in place. The noises, the scents, the blood . . . .

How the hell can it pump faster and louder here than anywhere else . . . .

"You can do this." He says with absolute sincerity. "Trust yourself. And me."

Instinctively I turn to face him immediately fixated by his warm gold eyes.

The venom dries in my throat.

Oh fuck . . . .

Before I can re-think I fling myself at him, crashing my lips into his.

Briefly he kisses me back, then he eases me back into the passenger seat, pressing a long finger to my pouting lips.

"Darlin' there's a cop car behind us . . . ."

Oh. Shit. Nurture over nature. How sobering.

Sensory input overpowers me again before I can consider it, not that I'm objecting . . . .

Even I've heard of the hotel Kate's meeting us at but I never suspected the grandeur of it.

Nor the herd of uniformed men who descend on us the moment we pull up.

"Head up." AJ murmurs as he helps me out of the car. "You've as much right to be here are any of them."

"Mister Hale, how lovely to have you staying with us again. May we assist with your baggage?"

"We don't have much this trip, but please do."

The minions fall on the car like vultures, almost coming to blows over its meagre contents.

"Billionaire." He whispers. "We could turn up with a dead horse in the trunk and they'd still be thrilled."

Okay, I'll take your word for it.

"All your requirements are in hand Mister Hale." The head uniform assures us as we ascend the steps.

"I would have expected no less." AJ responds.

"Indeed Sir. Is there anything else we can do in addition?"

"Not for the moment. But please ensure the car is properly stored, I am merely renting on this occasion."

"Yes Sir. Algernon! If you please, show Mr Hale and his Guest up to their penthouse."

'Penthouse?' I mouth.

"The view is worth it, indulge me." He urges.

'Guest?'

"Sorry, I didn't know what to describe you as, I . . . ."

The lift doors close, cutting him off as Algernon is right beside us and presumably not completely deaf or unobservant.

They open again.

". . . . couldn't think of a way to tell them you were mine without us being married."

What?

I hop from foot to foot in the 'drawing room' as Algernon explains the fantastical facilities to an already aware AJ.

Finally the double doors close behind our, well tipped, and current best friend in NY, Algie.

My eyes follow AJ as he crosses the suite and flings the balcony doors open, staying on him as he leans on the balustrade and looks out over the city. There's a strange and uncomfortable feeling building inside me. Echoes of that night, like a projector is playing the flickery film over the reality in front of me.

_Mine_.

The breeze is stirring his hair, rippling the shirt on his back, moulding it to his broad back. Blowing his scent back into the room, filling it like a sweet gas until I can't taste anything else.

_Mine_.

This time, afraid, I fight my brain as it tries to shut down on me, pulling up slumping thought trails and trying to shake them back into life.

And it might have worked but he turns suddenly, fixing his dark gold eyes on mine, and the beauty of him takes my breath away.

He's on me in a nanosecond, pinning me to one of the luxurious couches, our lower bodies pressed together, his forehead resting on mine.

"Bella." He groans, nose rubbing against mine.

We should be talking, he's practically bared his soul to me and I've barely managed two words on the subject but I'm utterly consumed with a need for him to possess me, it's a dull but painful ache radiating through my whole being, frightening in its intensity and impossible to resist.

I need him . . . . Oh god I need him . . . .

"Please, darlin' . . . . I want . . . . not like this . . . . K . . . . oh god, _Bella_ . . . ."

His mouth crashes into mine and my hands fly up to clutch at his shoulders, ripping his shirt and snaking out over the silky skin of his back, feeling the indelible marks there.

Oh, _Jasper_.

The dull ache turns to an exquisite warmth and as his tongue slides into my mouth I give into it completely, tearing away the rest of his shirt and running my hands over every bit of skin I can reach. Every scar, muscle, indentation and bump. Tracing and re-tracing the contours of his big arms as he holds his weight on them. Detecting the struggle going on inside him, through the tremors in his body, as he fights his own version of whatever this is. I don't want him to fight it, I _need_ him to surrender . . . .

"Bella." He gasps, attempting to pull back from the searing kiss. "We're going to get caught . . . ."

"Don't care . . . . need you . . . ." I can barely get the words out. "_Please_ . . . ."

For a moment his dark gold eyes burn into me and then abruptly he slides his arms around my back, crushing me to him, thoroughly reclaiming my mouth with his. Automatically my legs fly up to wrap themselves around him, my own little arms attempting to pull him closer. Warmth turns to heat as our writhing bodies' tip us gracelessly onto the floor, me landing on top, grinding myself down on him as his hands rip away my t-shirt and settle on my skin . . . .

My head snaps up as the double doors sweep open and Kate glides in.

"Oh excellent." She laughs, clapping her hands together. "Bella, hearing you stumble your way through _this_ explanation is going to make my century. Algie darling, you may leave, this isn't a peep show."


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 43 An Audience with Kate**

**BPOV**

The doors swing shut with an emphatic click.

"Hi Kate." AJ drawls, tilting his head back to look at her and exposing his throat to me.

"Jasper." She giggles, dumping her purse on the hall table. "I knew you were travelling together but I didn't realise you'd be _joining_ us in New York."

The urge to lick him is strong, very strong, but my mind is springing into life and nurture is putting its foot down. Nevertheless I can't resist glaring at Kate who blinks at me in surprise.

"Are you okay?" AJ whispers, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

All I can manage is a light shrug, right now I have no idea and I can't tear my eyes away from Kate who is staring at us with a strange expression on her face.

"Bella, darlin', look at me."

Shaking my head as if to clear it I look down into his concerned face, ignoring Kate who quietly makes her way into one of the bedrooms.

The heat has died back, leaving behind that dull ache which is pulling at me like a lead weight. I feel, _wrong_ . . . . curiously out of sorts, like I could cry . . . .

"Tell me what you need." He urges, frowning. "I know you need something, but I . . . ."

I close my eyes and shake my head slightly, I can't, I don't know, I'm not sure now . . . .

With a sigh he wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling me down onto his chest and tucking my head under his chin, relaxing me as his fingers idly stroke the scar on my neck. And gradually I start to feel better, listening to the sounds of the city outside, Kate taking a shower and then tuning in to a reality show I vaguely recognise.

And now I feel more like normal, freaked out and wildly embarrassed. Will this weirdness never end?

"I need a shower." I murmur, suddenly becoming aware that I'm draped over him, skin to skin, on the floor.

Making no effort to move.

"What keeps happening to me?" I ask his chest.

"Us." He corrects firmly. "And I don't know. You wanted something from me, needed it, I felt it, not with my gift, it was something else . . . ."

I wish I could tell him, I wish I knew . . . .

"Are you alright now?" He asks after a moment.

I nod.

"Then why don't you get that shower?" He suggests gently.

Miserably I climb off him, holding my t-shirt together and staring down at him.

Immediately he flips to his feet, gathering me in his arms and burying his face in my hair.

"It will be okay." He whispers.

I don't see how he can know but I want to believe him, really badly . . . .

Finally I manage to fight the elastic and pull myself away to wander into the bathroom.

When I emerge some time later I find AJ and Kate both relaxing on the couch, talking quietly.

"I'm going to go down and talk to the Concierge about the arrangements for our stay." AJ says studying my face.

I nod.

"Don't go too far."

"I won't." He promises, ruffling my hair and striding out.

With a deep sigh I collapse into his vacated spot.

"Well then." Kate observes. "My default position is to milk this for all it's worth, but I'm under strict instructions not to upset you from Mr Protective."

"Did you make any promises?" I can't help but smile.

"Not exactly." She giggles. "But I'm only prepared to push him so far, he was, um, very _definite_ that you shouldn't be _distressed_ in any way."

My unruly lips arrange themselves into what feels like a goofy smile and her eyes narrow dangerously.

Oops.

"So." She begins, leaning back and flipping her legs up onto my knees. "He was incredibly tight lipped about what's been happening the last couple of weeks and he said it was up to you if you wanted to fill in the blanks. So, get filling."

I sigh heavily and her supportive smile widens into something a little more predatory.

Oh hell, who else am I going to tell?

The first part goes well. My attempt at a packed lunch makes her howl with laughter. My modest stab at sunbathing has her promising to take me somewhere decent the next time I feel the urge. I stumble over AJ's rescue, which has her eyes shining and our agreement to travel together, which makes them narrow again. She nods her way happily through my induction into the concept of fun, grinning at the more embarrassing highlights. She's approving of my expanded exposure to vampires.

"Well." She observes when I've covered our final journey into New York. "That's an awful lot words for such a small amount of information."

She's going to make me tell her everything, I know it.

"Oh yes." She says, nodding seriously. "_E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g_"

"I don't even know where to start." I admit truthfully.

"Alright, why the hell did you agree to stay with him? You don't like him, even less so after you slept with him, although you seem to be adjusting quite well . . . ."

"I was scared . . . ." I begin, examining my never changing cuticles with undue attention, I can speak, I think, but looking her in the eye while I do is a step too far at this point.

…..

"He _bit_ you?"

I nod.

"Can I see?"

I lift my hair over my shoulder, leaning forward.

"It, um, it's . . . ."

I've seen it in the mirror, it didn't look so bad but her reaction, odd like AJ's, has me fearing the worst again.

"What does it look like?"

"A seal."

An image of clapping flippers, huge whiskers and fish appears in my mind. Oh no . . . .

"Not that kind of seal." She chuckles. "Like an old fashioned wax seal on an important letter.

"Oh."

"It's beautiful in its way." She decides and I let my hair fall back into place.

"Do you know why?" The million dollar question.

"No." She shakes her head, as we both flop back down on the couch. "I expect there are vampires out there who mark each other during sex, it takes all sorts to make the world, but most wouldn't because of the scars. Somehow I can't imagine your Jasper making a habit of it."

"What about the rest of it?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "I've never heard anything like it but of course I'm not as obsessive about learning every nuance of vampire behaviour as some people in the family . . . ."

"Oh no, no way." I can just imagine the conference call she's planning in her head and it is _not_ happening.

"Okay." She laughs. "Message received and understood. It's something to think about though, they can probably help."

"Humph."

"What happened after that?"

…..

"Well, if it's any consolation I can understand why you're freaked out." She sighs when I've stuttered us up to the point of her finding us semi naked on the floor. "How does it feel now?"

"The elastic?"

She nods.

"It's okay I guess. It feels stretched but not as uncomfortable as it can be. That probably means he's still here in the hotel somewhere."

"Any lustfully possessive feelings?" She asks slyly.

"Do I smell different?" I retort, not dignifying that with an answer.

"Nope, exactly the same."

"AJ's convinced . . . ."

"When are you going to stop calling him that?" She chuckles. "You've had sex with him, and, it suits you to do things in the wrong order by the way, you're going on a date with him."

"Will you stop with the sex stuff?" I huff.

"I will if you will." She quips.

I roll my eyes. So that's the way it's going to be.

"Oh Bella." She giggles. "I'll never tease you more than I think you can handle, I promise. Just be prepared for it to escalate as your tolerance improves."

"Fine." I deadpan. "But don't go too far or I'll rat you out to AJ."

"We have an understanding." She responds solemnly and we both laugh.

"Speaking of whom, I suppose we'll have to alter our plans for this stay now you've acquired a supernatural sidekick." She sighs.

"I'm sorry." I sigh too. "I didn't mean for this to happen, at least I don't think I did."

"I don't see how it can be your fault." She points out for about the tenth time. "And don't worry about it. We have forever to behave badly in the city without 'adult' supervision, besides he can carry the shopping."

I groan.

"You promised me." She growls, poking me with her toe. "That you wouldn't be difficult about shopping on this trip."

"I promised we could _go_ shopping on this trip."

"Which is the same thing." She says firmly. "And we can start tomorrow. Tonight is for sightseeing, and possibly dancing."

What is it with the vampire obsession for dancing? We're like extras from Fame, any excuse and we're off . . . .

…..

Tourists, apparently, are the same the whole world over, whatever the species.

Kate insists we get dressed up just in case a wild urge to go clubbing overtakes us but for the next few hours we just wander around drinking in the sights and sounds, and once again I'm grateful for the inability to get neck ache. And I have to say the two of them are better than any tour guide. Pointing out the big things and expanding on the little details they've picked up on their previous visits.

Although we've no need to fear anyone we avoid the less salubrious neighbourhoods, trouble attracts attention and that's never a good idea.

There are lots of vampires here, which makes sense I suppose, a city this size with so many anonymous people must be the vampire equivalent of a watering hole in the Serengeti. I find it a bit intimidating to know so many others are around, even though we haven't seen any, but apparently by convention big cities like this are considered neutral territory and it's very rare for a coven to even attempt to stake a claim on it, never mind cause trouble.

There are far more people though. Where the hell do they all come from? What are they doing here?

Quite a lot of them are like us, wandering around, getting in each other's way and staring at things. Except vampires don't need cameras to capture the memory. The people who belong here are a lot more _focussed_ somehow and they smell a bit different too, as if all that focus does something to their blood. It's vaguely off putting. The tourists however smell _lovely_, excited and happy.

For the most part AJ seems quite content to stroll along behind us, chipping in with the odd bit of information here and there, but as the night wears on I can feel him getting closer and closer as if his elastic is pulling him in tight. Thankfully Kate makes no comment when he finally gives in and takes my hand although I can tell she's filed it away for future use.

"What now?" She asks instead. "The night is still young."

"There's still loads we haven't seen." I point out.

"You don't have to do it all on your first night." She says, winking at AJ who looks briefly shifty.

Okay.

One, two, three . . . .

"Clubbing?" She suggests.

AJ looks at me questioningly.

"Oh look." I drawl. "We seem to have stopped outside a popular one, with a huge queue."

"So we have, what luck." She laughs. "Follow me."

I fix my eyes on her swinging ice blonde hair as she leads us past the suddenly hostile queue and up to the entrance.

"Kate Denali and two guests." She informs the doorman who hasn't even asked her a question yet.

He keys his mike and talks quietly, unaware that we can hear him.

"Kate Denali?"

"What's she look like?" A bored voice responds.

"Blonde, supermodel, nice rack. Fashionably _pale_."

"Sounds about right."

"Plus two?"

"No problem Joseph, the boss is very fond of Ms Denali and her sisters."

"Good evening Ms Denali." Joseph greets, opening the rope to admit us. "Welcome back."

"Thank you Joseph." She purrs, laying a smile on him that has his heart hammering in his chest.

He smiles at me as I pass and looks AJ over carefully from head to toe before favouring him with a brief nod, which AJ returns even more briefly.

Must be a man thing.

The club is very upmarket. The décor tasteful, the clientele almost exclusively young, attractive and rich. The drinks eye wateringly expensive. And there are fine particles of glittery dust floating around in the air like magic trails from a fairy tale.

"Enrique is the guy that owns the club." Kate explains as she leads us through to the throng to one of the bars. "He's a bit of a lady's man but I'm sure AJ can frighten him off if he bothers you."

"No problem." AJ responds, a little too seriously for my liking.

After two tours around we manage to get a table and Kate immediately abandons us to go looking for Enrique.

"AJ?" The man in question asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the glittery dust?" I ask.

"Cocaine." He answers. "Don't get it in your eyes, it sticks to the venom for some reason and it's gritty. AJ?"

"Short for Jasper."

"Not very." He observes dryly.

I shrug lightly and turn to study the dance floor, tapping my toe to demonstrate how much I'm enjoying the music.

It does no good, he captures my face gently in his hands and makes me look at him.

"AJ?" He repeats, eyebrow still waiting patiently for a response.


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 44 This Isn't Everything You Are**

**BPOV**

I don't know what to say.

The truth seems rude and unnecessarily hurtful, no matter how appropriate the name was not too long ago.

I don't want to hurt him.

And the scale of that change takes my breath away. I can recall the satisfaction I felt on every occasion I told him he was an Asshole, the guilty pleasure every time I called him that in my head. And it wouldn't have remotely bothered him to know. Now, I have a suspicion that he isn't going to like it.

Amiable Jasper. Allez Jasper. Achtung Jasper. A Jasper. A Jerk. Arrogant Jerk, maybe that's better than asshole . . . .

"Asshole Jasper." Jesus, mouth! I was still working on that . . . .

He freezes in place, still cupping my face with his big hands.

"I guess I deserve that." He says evenly.

"It's better than what I called you before." I whisper, looking down to count the threads holding the buttons on his shirt.

I _have_ hurt him but I am not going to apologise, no matter how much I want to.

"I am sorry." He tells the top of my head. "I wish I could take it back. Every single thing I did to you that you didn't deserve."

My brain winches my head back up so that I can look at him.

The sincerity is shining in his eyes but he could have them closed and I'd still know. Don't ask me how, chalk it up to the general weirdness that is currently 'us'.

I should probably say something but I've no idea what, so instead I reach up and place my hands over his.

Interesting dilemma, how do you apologise for hurting someone you care about without being sorry for what you did?

Ah. By responding to a soft, gentle, kiss.

"Ahem."

Kate, accompanied by a man who can only be described as small but perfectly formed package. Seriously he only just tops her shoulder.

"Enrique, this is my friend Bella and my cousin, Jasper."

"It is a pleasure." He purrs, kissing my hand and shaking Jasper's. "I hope you enjoy your experience here at 'Enrique's', it is always an honour to meet more of Kate's beautiful friends."

Jasper nods politely and I manage an eloquent 'um'.

Enrique laughs gently and offers his arm to Kate who takes it happily and winks at us as she allows him to escort her away.

"Amore?" I hear him whisper to Kate.

"Oh yes." She answers with a light laugh. "Bucket loads."

The patrons around us are staring, open mouthed.

"Apparently a visit from the boss is something of a privilege." Jasper murmurs, returning his attention to me. "Where were we?"

"I think you were apologising for behaving like an asshole and I was accepting it."

"Oh yes." He smiles, cupping my face again. "So we were."

Significance. There is great significance in the way his lips brush against mine this time. The way I open up to him like a flower. The movement of his tongue, delicately stroking inside my mouth. The feelings it evokes in me as his fingers gently caress my face and mine comb through his hair. The glorious scent of him filling my nostrils.

There's no word for this . . . .

"Dance with me?" He asks when he finally pulls away to give my gratified lips a chance to re-group.

I shake my head, it's not really our kind of music.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" His thumbs move lightly over my jaw.

I nod this time. It's too crowded and I just want to be with _him_.

"Stay here and I'll tell Kate we're leaving."

"Okay." I promise, almost whimpering as he releases me and moves away.

Idly I pretend to sip my drink as I scan the crowd, a little unsure about what might be about to happen next.

After two minutes and nineteen seconds Jasper returns, grinning broadly as he helps me to my feet.

"What?" I have to ask.

"Turns out Kate and the little fella have a bit of history." He chuckles. "She's more than happy we're leaving and said she'll see you in the morning for the shopping."

"Oh."

Joseph releases us through the velvet rope and Jasper takes my hand as we stroll down the street.

"Central Park?"

"What can we do there in the middle of the night?"

"Anything we like." He laughs, swinging our hands. "We're vampires."

It's a fair walk but it passes quickly when your companion has swallowed an encyclopaedia or two over the years.

"How many books have you read?" I ask impulsively.

"I'm not sure, millions I guess."

"Why do you read so much?" One of my strongest impressions is of him with his nose in a book. When he wasn't terrorising me he always seemed to be reading something and on our travels together, in the quiet moments, when he wasn't watching cartoons, he would always be reading. It was one of the things that made me start to wonder if there was more to him than what he'd shown.

"I don't sleep, you have to have something to do in the dead of the night."

My eyebrow meanders upwards, sensing evasion.

"You can't get in any trouble reading a book." He admits after a moment. "Why do you read so much?"

Ah. Now that's complicated. I don't read anything like the breadth of stuff he does. I like the classics, romance, heroism, great feats of daring do, emotional blockbusters. And I always did, even before he killed me.

"Escapism." I answer truthfully.

"What were you escaping from?" He asks as he gives me a gentlemanly, but pointless, bunk up over the park gates. Central Park is closed to all but us.

"Life."

"What was wrong with it?" He asks gently, taking my hand again as we venture down one of the paths.

"Nothing. My parents split up when I was young. I grew up to be a typical gawky teenager."

Never felt like I fitted in anywhere. Too young for mom's friends, too old for the kids at school. Too clumsy to be anything other than a figure of fun. Too shy to talk to anyone who didn't talk to me first. Generally clueless on all fronts. Pathetic by comparison.

"Did you have any fun?"

"Of course."

"What did you do for fun?" He presses.

Ah hang on, there's something in there somewhere . . . .

"I had a bicycle."

"And?"

"I fell off it a lot. Mom and I used to play a lot of board games, they were fun. Charlie used to take me fishing, he took me to Disneyland once, that was fun."

I'm done.

"I enjoyed reading." I add lamely.

"Ahuh."

"Mom could be a little scatty."

"Ahuh."

And abruptly we're back into tour guide mode.

I recognise most of this stuff, in that vague, murky, saw it on TV when I was a human way, but it's so amazing to see it for real, with vampire eyes, that I'm struck dumb for a while.

We decided not to risk a paddle in the fountain, CCTV can be such a killjoy. But we wandered the paths inspecting all the sights, Jasper explaining, me listening. And all the while a deep sense of happiness is settling over me. I'm in New York, a dream I harboured once, and I'm not alone.

We've wandered out into the center of the park, as far away from the city as we can get and at Jasper's suggestion we shimmy up a tree, resting in its branches. My back to him and his arm wound lightly around my waist as he leans us back against the trunk and regales me with tales of life with the Cullens.

I listen, enthralled, but as it's the first time he's ever really told me anything about Alice it sets all manner of balls rolling in my head. They've been there a while, dormant, waiting for something to start them off . . . .

Curiosity, jealousy, inferiority, fear. What sort of woman would a man like him have wanted to marry? Why is he currently sat in a tree with me?

"You can ask me anything." He says when the rolling balls have rendered me incapable of responding appropriately to the stories he's telling.

My mouth stays resolutely closed. Damn it. Come on, come on, come on . . . .

"Alice?" I croak eventually and his arms tighten around me.

"I met her in a diner. I don't even know why I went in, coffee was the last thing I needed. She was waiting for me, she knew I would come, what day, what I'd be wearing, what I needed."

He stops speaking for a moment and the world seems to stop as well.

"She already knew we'd be lovers, mates, she'd always known.

She woke up alone too, but with no memories at all. All she had were visions of me and the Cullens. It must have been . . . ."

He sighs.

"She was completely different to anyone I'd ever known. Tiny, almost pixie like with her ability to see the future. She was so certain and I was so, useless . . . .

She took me hunting, deer, told me what she'd seen.

She loved me. She knew all about me but she loved me anyway. I could feel it, it poured off her in waves, it was _compelling_. No one had ever felt that for me before, at least not since I was able to sense it. She gave me everything I thought I needed, love, security, peace, hope for a better future. Understanding. Forgiveness. An early warning system for my frequent fuck ups.

I didn't give her anything but a wedding ring and something to wear her gift out on."

"Did you love her?" I have to ask, to know, he hasn't said it . . . .

"Not enough."

I twist in his arms to look into his face.

It's closed and set and I turn back, strangely disappointed.

"Yes, I loved her. The first time I ever really loved anybody and she was happy, I know she was. But . . . . If I'd taken better care of her, been better, loved her properly, then maybe she wouldn't have gone to Italy after Edward."

I don't know what to say so I squeeze his leg.

"Alice could see the future." He says in his dead asshole's voice. "She must have known what would happen. But she went anyway. She left me."

Oh Jasper.

There's an ache in my chest but again I'm at a loss. A platitude just won't cut it and besides I know nothing about their relationship, how could I possibly say anything meaningful. I'm sure she loved you and hoped she would survive? Oh well, if you try harder next time maybe it will work out better? You're a selfish monster? She was stupid to go? It wasn't your fault?

"It wasn't your fault."

He stiffens.

See, platitudes are dangerous.

"Sorry, I mean, I don't know what happened or what you, your, the two of you were like together. But she chose to go. No matter what led up to it she made a choice."

"Fifty odd years being married to me led up to it." He says, still toneless.

"Maybe." I allow. "But you don't know that. You're not a mind reader, you'll never know what was going on in her head, what she saw at the time, and you could go crazy (er) trying to work it out. And what good would it do? She's gone and you're still here."

"It should have been me."

Ah.

"Why?"

"In the grand scheme of things I was the one who most deserved to die."

Oh.

"I don't think that's your decision to make." I point out.

"God or fate?"

"Either."

"Have you read any Greek tragedies?"

I shake my head and he laughs bitterly. "I'll download you some, then we can have this conversation again."

"Okay."

We sigh as his head comes down, resting on the top of mine.

"What I'm trying to tell you." He whispers eventually. "Is that everything I try to take care of ends up dead."

"You haven't killed me yet." I point out, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"That's what I'm afraid of." He responds cryptically, darkening it perceptibly.


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 45 The One Tree**

**JPOV**

She's a woman of few words and carefully hidden reactions. I know this about her but her continued silence on everything I've finally managed to reveal is _killing_ me. And I'm kicking myself for being so melodramatic on the subject of Alice.

My poor wife.

My only excuse is that I've been thinking about her a lot lately, for obvious reasons, but even so I wasn't really prepared to talk about her. Not yet. I probably could have phrased it a little better.

Jesus, what kind of monster am I?

My wife is dead, and I have to shoulder my share of the blame for that, yet my primary concern is that I haven't explained it in the best possible way to the woman reclining against my chest. That she hasn't understood what I was trying to say. Not that she would when I was as clear as mud.

I sigh and she snuggles back against me.

The fact is as soon as the words were out of my mouth I realised the truth. Yes, I loved Alice, but I never loved her enough. I fucked up and she forgave me but I never learnt my lessons. I obviously never felt the need to.

And the reason I know this is currently held securely in my arms.

I _know _I will never repeat the mistakes I made with her in the beginning. I _know_ I will go to the ends of the earth and back again to avoid disappointing her. I _know_ I will lay down my worthless life to keep her safe and happy.

And, dear _god_, I hope Alice never knew that . . . .

But still I can't help being a selfish bastard.

I've lived in and around fear for so long it's not something I recognise in myself much anymore. But what if God or Fate aren't done with me yet, what if the happiness that's threatening to take hold in me is a prelude to the Coup de grâce?

What if Bella's cosmic card is marked simply because I love her?

_Christ_, I can't even think about it . . . .

Oh Alice, baby, I didn't know, I'm _so_ fucking sorry . . . .

**BPOV**

Once again I'm an epic failure. I have no idea what to say to him and I can sense distance opening up between us as he sinks inside himself.

There's a painful irony in the fact that if he hadn't killed me when I was seventeen I might actually be able to help him now. I'd be older and wiser, but maybe not actually _here_.

He sighs and at a loss for what to do, needing comfort for my own short comings, I snuggle back against him.

I know he needs something from me, its tugging at me, like one of Charlie's fishing hooks caught in my midriff. But I don't know what and I've no clue how to fathom it out. Nor any care at the moment for _how_ I know . . . .

I can understand why he feels the way he does. I think. But what else can I say, fate, life, it is what it is, you just have to get on with it. He knows that as well as I do, if not better, a lesser man would have given up a long time ago.

Alice? What can I possibly say about her? Depending on your world view he probably did deserve to die more than she did.

Shit. The thought of it twists my insides, pulling the hook a little deeper.

He's so quiet and still. But he isn't relaxed, funny how I've learnt to tell the difference. He's thinking. Or waiting. If he's waiting for me we're going to be here a long time. And I allow myself a mental sigh. I want to be a grown up, I want to know what to say and do. I want to be able to give him what needs. I want him to be happy.

My wandering attention is caught by his forearms, crossed in front of my body, he pushed his sleeves up when he climbed into the tree. They're quite beautiful in their way, a near perfect representation of what a man's forearm should be. Masculine, smooth around the scattered scars. Idly I trace my finger over them, feeling the muscles and bones, attempting to read the scars like Braille. It's oddly soothing.

**JPOV**

Bella's light touch draws me back from my maudlin thoughts.

Slowly.

It's soothing and it's reviving the closeness I felt between us earlier.

Bringing me back.

It's not words or all that I need but it feels like a form of acceptance, enough to slightly counter the dull ache inside me.

**BPOV**

"Do you have an arm fetish?" He asks quietly, cool breath stirring my hair.

I shake my head. Not that I'm aware of. I rather like yours though.

"Don't stop. It's nice."

I continue but I'm suddenly more aware of him, like he's just popped back into his body after a brief absence.

It's barely credible that we're cuddling in a tree and I'm stroking his arms and that there's nothing wrong with this picture at all.

Except of course there is. My vampire mind and senses won't just let me enjoy the moment and my awareness of him builds, gradually taking over.

Despite the myriad scents in the city his is slowly overpowering them. His hard thighs are resting either side of mine, gently holding me in place. I can feel the thick muscles of his arms as they enfold me. His chest against my back as he curls slightly over me. His face in my hair. The end of his fingers marking an indolent circle on my hip bone.

Him. Jasper.

I wanted to keep him with me, strengthen our connection, not be alone. But I don't remember understanding or even thinking about what any of that meant.

Even without the weirdness. This. Whatever _this_ is. Is so much more than I could have anticipated. Would have wanted?

And with the weirdness?

I know he needs something from me. I can still feel it dragging at me, like that dull radiating ache is calling it from somewhere else. The combination is uncomfortable, disconcerting, confusing. Upsetting.

Despite the silence and stillness of our little oasis in New York, his nearness, calm is slowly leaking out of me. Nervous tension taking its place.

**JPOV**

This is ridiculous.

Just tell her you fuck wit.

You know she isn't going to laugh at you. You know she isn't going to run away. You might not know how but you _do_ know.

The dull ache has me squirming slightly, trying to get comfortable and that brings me up short. Really? Fidgeting?

I need her. I need her to tell me she understands me. I need to know she accepts me, in whatever capacity, for what I am. What I've been. What I'll strive for in the future.

I need her to tell me everything is going to be okay.

I had this all planned out. The date, all of it, with military precision, including back up plans and flexible alternatives. I wanted everything to be perfect for her . . . .

I'm such a fucking geek.

I don't understand why that's all gone out the window. I don't understand . . . .

**BPOV**

I can feel time ticking away. Hear and smell the city that never sleeps stirring around us. Feel the need to do something before it's too late. A pressure building, the hook twisting, threatening to turn me inside out. It _hurts_ . . . .

He needs me to help him but I don't know how.

But I want to. I don't want him to be like this. I can't bear him to need something I can't give him. I need him to be happy. I need _him_ . . . .

Unable to sit still any longer I turn in his arms, settling astride his lap, legs dangling as I study his face. As familiar to me now as my own.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.

And impulsively I capture one his big hands, sliding it around to the back of my neck.

Immediately he sighs, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing through the hair to touch my scar.

"_Bella_ . . . ."

Then he falls silent again, gold eyes holding mine.

Another, almost vicious, twist. Physically dragging me toward him. I should be terrified but I'm not, he needs me . . . .

I put my hands on his face, lifting my shield, all of it.

Please Jasper, I'm just a child, I don't know how to help you. I want to but I don't know what you need, please you have to help me too . . . .

"You." He whispers. "I only need you."

Abruptly his arms slip down to tighten around me, pulling me flush against his body, his mouth slanting down over mine.

I've no thought to stop him, my lips part easily to grant his tongue access, whatever he needs he can have . . . .

Me.

Anything.

How did this happen? What _is_ this . . . .

His hands drop down to my thighs, sliding up under my dress to circle my waist, holding me in place as he rolls his hips up into me.

Oh _Jasper_.

I love you . . . .

And suddenly he's kissing me harder, holding me tighter.

And it's all gone, the fear, the uncertainty, and the pain.

There's only us.

His mouth on mine, his hands burning my skin, his body, his scent.

Him.

I love him. How did this happen, why did this happen?

I'm kissing him back with everything I have, writhing against him, desperately wanting him to know it.

Jasper . . . . mine . . . . his . . . .

It's like some great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

Cliché, cl . . . . Oh Jesus, he rolls his hips up into me again and I can feel him between my thighs. Miss Elizabeth would run away with balled fists stuffed in her mouth if she knew what I wanted to do to my Mr Darcy now. Tremors are starting in my toes and roiling up through my body.

I'm so lucid, so certain. It's terrifying . . . .

The vampire, the woman, in me knows its time but the insecure teenage girl is still afraid.

He pulls back, his hands moving to cup my face the way I love, long fingers stroking through the edge of my hair, thumbs caressing along my jaw.

"I want to make love to you." He breathes, giving me no chance to duck away from his mesmerising gold eyes. "I want to kiss and taste every inch of your body. I want to possess you in every way a man can possess a woman. And I _need_ it to be because we both want it. Not for some vampiric urge or unknown compulsion. I want our eyes to be wide open."

The trembling in my body increases.

"I _need_ you to want me as much as I want you. I want it to be pre-meditated, deliberate, slow. Everything you deserve that I haven't yet been able to give you. I need you to let _me_ love _you_."

My mouth is firmly closed over any words I might utter. Not that I have any.

"_Bella_ . . . ."

His lips brush lightly across mine.

". . . . I love you."


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 46 Closer**

**BPOV**

My reaction is visceral and immediate. My lips crash into his and my body flings itself at him as well as its able under the circumstances.

Kissing hard we depart the branch and tumble onto the neatly manicured grass. Rolling like our clothes are on fire.

He does love me. I can feel it. It's like being wrapped in warm silk.

And then set on fire with a flame thrower.

It's almost painful . . . .

No matter, his hands are all over my body, his mouth locked to mine, my hands shamelessly returning the favour.

I can't think, I'm afraid to think . . . .

His hand snakes under my dress, caressing my thigh gently in contrast to the passionate fury of our kiss. Mine have his shirt pulled up to his shoulders so I that can touch his skin, feel his muscles sliding . . . .

"Bella." Jasper gasps, rolling me easily beneath him. "The park will be opening soon. We have to go . . . ."

I groan. No, _why_?

I'm afraid to let my brain start working, I don't trust it . . . .

"Darlin' we have to go."

I gaze up into his gold eyes, mute with the worries and fears abruptly crashing down on me. Help me, I need you to help me, I'm scared.

"Oh Bella." He sighs, peppering my face with soft kisses. "There's nothing to worry about, I've got you, let me take care of you . . . ."

I nod weakly and he nuzzles my face.

"Let's go back to the hotel."

Another nod and he scoops me up, easily setting me down on my feet, smoothing down my dress and rubbing my arms which are trembling again.

The city is stirring around us as we make our way back to the hotel, dirty stop outs in last night's clothes with wild hair and tightly clasped hands.

So desperately am I holding onto myself that I'm barely curious when he pulls out his cell and starts texting, sighing in satisfaction at the answering chirp. Instead I'm concentrating on my breathing.

In. I love him. Out. He loves me. In. It hardly seems a moment since I hated his petrified guts. Out. Or the blink of an eye since he was nothing but a source of misery to me. In. He wants to possess me in every way a man can possess a woman. Out. I'm not a woman, I'm a child in an unnaturally created woman's body. In. I'm so happy I could burst. Out. I'm so terrified I could fly apart into a million pieces.

If he wasn't here with me now, comforting me with his simple presence, I don't know what would happen . . . .

"Algie." Jasper greets as we board the elevator.

"Mister Hale. Have you had a good night?"

"You have _no_ idea." Jasper smirks, pulling me into his body and wrapping his arms around me.

Algie smiles.

My knees go a little weak.

Kate. I'd forgotten about her, her scent is fresh but she isn't in the suite I realise as we approach.

"She's gone to visit with Esme." Jasper explains softly, opening the door and ushering me inside. "So we can talk."

Oh. Talk? In case you haven't noticed I'm about as good at that as I am the other thing I fear, and hope, is on the horizon . . . .

We're alone.

Jasper throws the key card onto the hall table and I wander into the center of the room, my neck giving up on me and letting my head fall down to review the carpet.

Red, gold, some blue, is that brown, orange, black shiny shoes.

I knew he was approaching, of course, but I can sort of see my reflection in those shoes, its distracting.

I don't look very happy, I look terrified, and strangely long faced, like a horse.

A very grey horse . . . .

His finger appears under my chin, lifting it up so I have to look at him.

God he's beautiful.

Dazzling.

Smiling he gathers me in his arms, turning me and walking us out onto the balcony.

"You haven't savoured the view yet." He murmurs, leaning us against the balustrade, his body curved over mine, face resting in my hair.

It's very nice and if you look down it's like an ant farm. But all frenetic activity feels a very, very, long way away.

"What are you afraid of?" He whispers, burrowing under my hair and rubbing his nose into my scar.

"Everything." I manage to sigh.

"Can we start with something smaller?" He asks with a soft laugh.

Even as I shake my head I smile, leaning back against him, a lifetime of not talking or thinking about stuff like this rendering me incapable of responding. Yet I feel compelled to at least attempt to explain myself, not a weirdness compulsion, simple love and fear that I'll hurt him somehow by keeping quiet.

I don't want to spoil this by airing all my fears in one great toxic lump. My badly wired brain could quash the happiness I'm feeling in the blink of an eye, I know it wants to, but even I recognise that most of its concerns will simply resolve themselves with time, or maybe just cease to be important. In that respect it's rather refreshing to feel normal, at least I assume that's normal, based on my reading material, eavesdroppery tendencies and painfully embarrassing teenage conversations with my mom.

"Bella, there's no pressure." He whispers, tightening his arms around me. "We can talk whenever you're ready."

"That's not fair to you." I murmur.

"I'm happy." He says with a light laugh. "Trust me. This is way better than what I was expecting."

"Then why did you? I mean, how did you have the nerve, I couldn't have, not like that . . . ."

"I'm an empath. I felt you. You're shield is still up."

Oh.

"Sorry." I let go of whatever's mentally propping it up.

"_Please_." He says urgently. "Don't let it down, _not_ today."

Obediently it slides back up.

"Would you have told me if you hadn't felt, it?" I need to know.

"Eventually. I had the exact spot and time all picked out. Kate assured me it would be as romantic as I wanted it to be."

Those words warm me all the way through.

"If it helps, I was fucking terrified at the prospect. Every time I played it out in my mind you ended up slapping my face and calling me an asshole in that special way you have." He admits and we both laugh.

"And you were going to do it anyway?"

"Wild horses wouldn't have stopped me."

Down below a bus clips a cycle messenger, sending him spinning onto the sidewalk, I can smell the blood all the way up here.

"Tell me one thing you're afraid of." He purrs, nuzzling my scar again and rubbing himself against me.

"You'll laugh." I stammer, suddenly reminded of his closeness, his masculine scent and my number one fear right now.

"I think that's extremely unlikely." He growls, pressing me into the balustrade gently.

I close my eyes, the trembling starting up again. He knows.

And thank _god_ he isn't going to let me get away with it . . . .

"I know we've, um, more than once, but I . . . ." Come on Swan, out with at least something. "I-still-feel-like-a-virgin."

"I owe you better than that." He turns me in his arms. "And to me you're still a virgin too."

Oh. Um. His eyes are like magnets, sucking me in.

"I said I wanted to make love to you. I _want_ you. I want actions to speak louder than words. And I want you to want me too."

Oh crap.

"Come with me." He says quietly, offering me his hand. "Trust me."

I take it immediately, shivering as he leads me through the suite and into the master bedroom. The balcony doors are open in here too, the drapes pulled wide, allowing the gauzy net to billow in the breeze.

Still nervous I turn to face him as he drops my hand at the foot the enormous bed.

He kicks his shoes and socks off, flicking them carelessly into the corner of the room and I hold myself still as he unbuttons his crisp white shirt, shrugging it carelessly from his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

I know he's still watching me intently but my attention is currently on his muscular torso, the way it moves as he unbuckles his belt and pulls it free of his pants, flipping the buttons open and letting them fall to pool at his feet. Everything about him is perfect, and huge. Swallowing I drag my eyes back to his face.

Alright. I can do this. I _want_ to do this. I love him.

Amazed not to fumble I reach behind me and slide the zipper of my dress down, wriggling out of it and letting it drop to the floor. His breathing hitches as I unhook my bra and send it the same way. His eyes are absolutely burning but I daren't look away or I'll lose my nerve. With a deep breath I hook my thumbs into the sides of my skimpy lace panties and slide then down my slightly trembling thighs, yanking them unsexily over my shoes and toeing them away behind me somewhere. Reminded I slip off my shoes.

And then my nerve fails me and I close my eyes.

His hands gently push my hair over my shoulders, thumbs rubbing my neck as his lips press softly to mine.

"You're beautiful." He murmurs, continuing to caress my neck until finally my eyes open again.

His smile is breath taking and without speaking he raises my hands to link behind his neck and then lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his narrow waist and sitting on the edge of the bed, shimmying back until we're in the center of the huge expanse of white linen. Him with his legs stretched out, me resting on his thighs, legs wrapped loosely around his body.

Its extremely intimate but in no way threatening as he pulls me a little closer, so that our bodies are flush and takes my face in his hands.

"I love you." He murmurs, leaning down and moving his lips lightly but purposefully over mine.

Giving into temptation my hands unclench from behind his neck roaming over his back and arms, touching, feeling, _enjoying_. I would never have described myself as a touchy feely person but with him naked and within my grasp I don't seem to be able to resist it and it thrills me to explore every perfect inch of him I can reach as the kiss deepens and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. His broad shoulders, big arms, hard thighs, stomach and chest yet I still find time to marvel at the silk of his hair and trace out the planes of his face with my fingertips.

Each time he shudders or gasps I file it away for future reference, knowing I'll want him to do that again.

For my part I think I've been moaning deep in my throat, on and off, the whole time. The restrained passion of our kiss, the feel of him under my fingertips, his smooth body sliding over mine as we rock gently together from time to time. The heat in his palms as they cup my face, stroke my back, move lightly up and down my arms or ghost out across my shoulders to play with my hair.

Of course I know exactly how long we've been entwined like this, kissing slowly and deeply, but it has absolutely no relevance whatsoever. Time can go fly a kite for all it matters to me. There is only us . . . .

His lips are soft but increasingly demanding, his tongue probing and teasing, the intensity building so that our bodies are rocking together more frequently, our explorations less gentle, becoming something more . . . .

His hard length is trapped between us, the wet tip leaving liquid trails, like cold fire on my skin as it brushes against my stomach, from time to time I feel compelled to reach down between us and stroke it, loving the way he groans into my mouth when I do.

Loving him for making this feel so easy, so natural.

Despite the light streaming in with the cool breeze it feels pleasantly close in here. Unnaturally warm and moist, the air heavy with the scent of us, _me_.

I feel twisted and turned, suffused with blissful heat and somehow disconnected from my humming body, literally _sick_ with desire, almost shuddering whenever my peaked nipples brush against his chest. Somehow the sound of skin on skin and occasional shallow breathing is louder than the flutter and snap of the drapes, the busy city below us.

He grinds out my name, mouth releasing mine for the first time and moving on to nibble my ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell, my head falls back, angling my body away from him.

Now his warm hands are holding my aching breasts and I feel no embarrassment as he breaks our kiss to look down at them.

"So beautiful." He murmurs, squeezing them lightly and rolling them gently in his hands.

With a moan I lean back, consciously inviting his attention, my hair cascading down onto his knees.

For a moment he's distracted by my exposed throat, kissing and nipping up and down it while he kneads my breasts, twirling the hard nipples through his long fingers but then his mouth drops to latch onto one and I gasp, bright sparks shooting through me, my hips involuntarily skimming me against his thighs. God that feels so good. His free hand is rubbing circles on my lower back as he holds me in place and for some reason my hips are still moving slightly against him, searching out friction through the sticky wetness which has coated the tops of his legs.

His mouth transfers to my other breast, teeth circling the peak, pulling at it sharply and I almost scream as an unexpected spike of pleasure lances through me. And now there's a dull ache building inside me, a vaguely recognisable need for more, tugging at me as he places both hands in the small of my back, pulling my lower body towards him and planting open mouthed kisses in the valley between my breasts.

"Bella, _please_ . . . . I don't think I can wait much longer . . . . I've needed this for so long . . . . I want to be _inside_ you . . . ."

One of his hands moves down between us, swirling through my sopping wet flesh, knuckles lightly bumping over my swollen bundle of nerves, making me hiss with my own need and my eyes roll back in my head.

"Please." I whimper as one of his long fingers slides inside me. Then another, overcome with that need I clench my muscles around them and he growls, curling and pumping them. In response my thighs part, opening me up to him in brazen invitation.

Instinctively I tuck my legs under me, kneeling either side of his, as his hands grip my hips and lift me, my own hands circling his forearms like manacles, feeling the strength there.

He pauses, his thick tip nudging at me, our eyes locked together.

"I want you." My voice is surprisingly clear and strong . . . .


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons.**

**Chpt 47 Ride Out the Wave**

**BPOV**

_"Come with me." He says quietly, offering me his hand. "Trust me."_

…..

It's the hardest thing I've ever done, to keep my eyes fixed on his, as he lowers my slick wet flesh down over his immutable hardness. So slow and controlled, so we can both feel every last nuance of it as my body does the yielding, giving and moulding around him, accepting him and drawing him in.

_Oh_. Eyes rolling back in your head isn't technically looking away. My hands are gripping him so fiercely I'm probably going to leave marks . . . .

But, god, he feels so _good_.

It's one of those moments that seem to last forever but finally the glory of it is over and he's buried deep inside me, our bodies fitting flush where we're joined.

I exhale slowly as his hands slide up my back, combing through my hair so his long fingers can grip my head, tilting my face up for his mouth to claim mine. His kiss is slow and sweet but strangely compelling, it's me that gasps and slips my tongue into his mouth, me that twists my hands into his hair, pulling him closer, me who presses her body forwards writhing it sinuously against his. For a few beats he seems content to let me kiss him but then he takes over, tongue easily subduing mine as he deepens the kiss. The intensity of it builds quickly this time as our hands branch out, re-experiencing each other. The sensations are different this time too, now that he's lodged inside me, every movement and every touch changes the way our bodies are joined, moving him inside me, languidly stretching and stimulating me.

The humming desire in my body escalates, the blissful heat shimmering into flickering flames. I feel like a warmed liquid somehow suspended in a woman's shape.

Now and then my questing hands wring a gasp or groan from him and his hips roll up, pushing him deeper inside me, forcing me to voice the liquid heat as moan. I still feel oddly disassociated from myself. The carnal desire I'm feeling and my ability to think about it, so different to when we've been together like this before, I can appreciate it, savour it, so _much_ better this time. It's perfect and I don't want it to end . . . . he feels amazing inside me, like he's always been a part of me and I'm starting to press myself down on him as we rock together. And it feels so good. To both of us I think. I press down and his hips roll up in response. Such slight movements, such swells of warming liquid pleasure, starting to grow into an achy heat.

There's something sublime about the feel of his warm palms dwarfing my shoulder blades . . . . the contours of his solid chest under the pads of my fingers . . . . the singing pleasure of his hands on my breasts . . . . kissing him with such abandon . . . . not caring that the day is passing us by and preparing for night . . . .

I almost whimper in protest when his mouth finally breaks away from mine, his hands settling on my hips again, his head and body falling back, a string of mostly incomprehensible words tumbling quietly from his lips. But instead I'm seized with a new yearning and I lean forward lightly scraping my teeth down his exposed throat.

"Fuck." He groans, tightening his grip and pulling me down as he flexes up, pushing himself deeper inside me.

My liquid flames surge abruptly, nearly ripping a curse from _my _lips, but I have a goal in mind.

Trailing my tongue on his skin, he tastes _divine_, I make my way down to his chest until I reach one of his straining nipples, tentatively flicking my tongue over it.

"Oh _fuck_." He grinds out this time, repeating his movement of our hips, only this time he doesn't stop, setting a slow gentle rhythm as he rocks us up and down, back and forth.

Oh _Jesus_ that feels, _distracting_.

I close my mouth over it and suck it briefly inside, laving it with my tongue again and he hisses, rolling us together less gently, making me gasp as another sharp sting of desire splashes fuel on the liquid flames, _breeding_ them. Every time I think he can't be any deeper inside me . . . . ungh . . . .

Determined I transfer my inexperienced attentions to the other side of his chest as he keeps our lower bodies moving steadily against each other, a little quicker now, perceptibly less gentle. It's getting hard to concentrate, the liquid flames are everywhere now, even in my fingertips which are brushing almost obsessively over his exposed skin. He's still leaning back, allowing me to lick, kiss and nibble wherever I can reach, chest rumbling in the semblance of a purr.

My whole body feels like it's about to start tingling.

When I nip at his clenched bicep he shudders, moaning my name, rolling us harder and faster, _so_ difficult to concentrate now. With each undulation now I can feel him slipping a little way down inside me and then pushing all the way back in so that I'm filled with him again. And each time he pushes home again I moan as a little trail of liquid flame travels up inside me, joining the others dancing through me, they make me _ache_ deep in my belly.

Concentrating hard I arrive back at his neck, kissing and nipping at it the way he did mine. I _loved_ it. He shudders, leaning his body back more and somehow managing to slip down further and then go deeper, momentum building with every repetition.

The flames are dancing now, spiralling together, tugging at me, twisting me into a water spout that writhes against him so hard I'm struggling to keep my lips on his skin. Nevertheless I manage to press a kiss onto the soft skin behind his ear, loving the way his silky hair tickles my face, reaching out like an addict to play my hands over his broad beautiful chest. Finally I suck the fleshy lobe of his ear into my mouth, dragging at it slightly with my teeth.

"Fuck!" He growls, pushing me back easily and slanting his mouth down over mine, my lips part for him and his tongue shoves its way inside, demanding, no longer gentle as it plunges into my mouth, perfectly in time with the movement of our bodies.

I give up trying to fire fight, fastening my hands behind his neck, pulling us closer and kissing him back with my heart and soul. Overwhelmed. The feel of his mouth owning mine, my swollen nipples and aching breasts rubbing against his hard chest, his hands gripping my hips, fingers kneading the soft flesh at the top of my butt as he pushes up inside me, withdrawing some and then pushing up again, harder.

The liquid flames have become an out of control conflagration of white heat and deep _agonising_ need.

And as if I've sent him a signal I suddenly find myself pinioned to the bed, the weight of his huge body pressing down on me.

His hands are fisted in my hair as he grinds himself into me.

"Please." I whimper staring helplessly into his _very_ dark eyes.

Yes, _please_, more, I want you, I don't even care that I'm not sure what that means, I trust you, _please_ . . . .

His teeth briefly snag my lower lip, pulling at it and then he draws back, raising himself up on his powerful arms, smiling, breath taking, hair falling around his face . . . .

Then he pulls nearly all the way out of me before _thrusting_ back inside.

Oh. God. _Yes_. And I didn't think he could go any deeper . . . .

So slowly, so that I can't miss a thing, he withdraws again, so close to leaving me I almost whimper, and then, like a freight train he powers back in. My eyes may never roll back so that I can see again, I'll get a dog . . . .

And again.

I fist my hands into the bedclothes, desperately trying to keep myself in place, my legs might have been able to help but they've flown up and locked around his waist.

In. _Jesus_. The bedframe protests with a voice I've lost.

Out. It pulls at the flames, making them turn in on themselves, _ache_. My muscles clench automatically but I can't hold onto him, can't . . . .

In. The flames roar. My back arches. My fists clench harder.

Out. I can hear everything with such perfect clarity. His measured breathing, mine's stopped, the moist suction of flesh as he almost leaves me again.

In. Toes do actually curl. The bedclothes are just moving with me, letting me slip away from him a little with each powerful thrust.

"Bella." He rasps. "Look at me."

My eyes focus on his face. They do still work. I hitch in a breath.

Out.

I moan.

In.

I gasp.

Out. He's so fucking beautiful.

In. So totally in control.

_Ungh_.

"Hold onto me Bella." He demands.

Out.

My hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

In. Breath shoved rudely out of my body.

_Oh_. Faster. My eyes roll back into my head again and it's all I can do to hold onto him. My brain can't cope with all the information my body is feeding it, it's trying, but failing miserably. All it can really manage is to keep time, like a metronome, and record the highlights. In. Out. In. Out. Flames, roaring. Ache, intensifying.

My fingers are clawing at his massive shoulders, curling into his flesh like talons.

The sound of our bodies almost parting, then coming together again with such force the bed groans, his random proclamations of love, desire and impending release are the most erotic thing I've ever heard . . . .

So fast, I can barely follow the rhythm consciously anymore, in, out, they're just a blur, pouring fuel on the flames. _Pouring_ it . . . .

_Jasper,_ oh god, _Jasper_ . . . . what's happening to me . . . .

I'm breathing again. Moaning. My head thrashing mindlessly from side to side so that when he leans down to kiss me he has to chase me, open mouth landing haphazardly on various parts of my face.

And still it keeps coming, the sensations, the excruciating pleasure. Oh god if he stopped now . . . .

"_Don't_ . . . . _stop_ . . . ." I gasp.

"Can't . . . . _Bella_ . . . . god . . . . _won't_ . . . ."

The flames are burning higher, twisting tighter, the ache morphing into a desperate _agony _of longing . . . .

He rears up onto his arms, changing the angle and place he's hitting inside me, suddenly thrusting harder and faster.

Holy shit, something's coming. An unnatural cold sweeps through me, literally pebbling my flesh and setting every hair of my head on end, leaving all the muscles in my body fluttering spastically in its wake.

"Oh god, _Bella_ . . . ."

The waves of tremors roll away from me, pulling my out of control muscles taut in their wake until I really am made of stone, rigid, petrified, brittle, ready to shatter at the slightest . . . .

In.

I gulp down air, screaming at the top of my lungs as his penetrating thrust sets off _everything_ in a chain reaction and I cum, _hard_. Conflagration to explosion. Cold tingling to burning heat. Whole body to blasted liquid droplets.

And still he's driving into me, even as he hoarsely grinds out the beginning of his own release, To my _amazement_ I can _feel_ him grow and throb inside me, the sudden tremors rolling through his limbs, but still he seeks to bury himself as deep inside me as possible, not letting it end for me, stoking it, feeding it, forcing it out in immolating waves . . . .

My back arches to an impossible height, my heels digging into the mattress. My mind going black, shutting down, my body threatening to tear itself apart as my roiling orgasms devour me from the inside out.

Mute. Unable to vocalise the ecstasy of the tumult ripping through me, until, finally . . . .

"_Bella_!" He roars, collapsing, spent, on top of me as my overstimulated body implodes on itself, leaving me a puddle of formless, warm, liquid . . . .

Guiltily enjoying the feeling of his seed oozing slowly down between my legs to pool on the bed, physical evidence of his love . . . .

He's still breathing like he's run a marathon, chest heaving against mine, face buried in my neck.

My arms slide around him instinctively and I breathe in carefully so I can speak.

"I love you."

He groans, lifting himself up to plant a lingering kiss on my lips.

"And I love you, Bella Swan. With all my body and soul."

The surface tension of my liquid fails and I puddle a little more.

Perfect. _This_ is the perfect moment . . . .

There's a knock at the door.

"Algie." I observe idly as he collapses on me again with a groan.

"He's afraid I've murdered you."

Oh. Damn. A genuine interruption then . . . .

"Perhaps we should disabuse him of that idea before he calls the cops." I suggest, stretching slightly and regretting it as soon as he slips outside my body.

"Is that the _Royal_ 'we'?" He chuckles.

"I don't think I could walk right now if my life depended on it."

With a martyred sigh he climbs off the bed and yanks the comforter out from under me like a magician with a tablecloth, making a great show of wrapping it around his hips as he strides to the door.

"You've about two seconds to cover you shame." He growls as he throws the door open. "Algie! How can I help you?"

"Is everything alright Mister Hale?" Algie asks and I can hear the complex fear in his voice. Jasper may be a valued customer but Algie is instinctively wary of him, us, and rightly so. You should never dismiss your instincts out of hand.

Now wrapped in a linen sheet I roll to the edge of the bed, into Algie's line of sight and wave cheerily.

"I'm sorry about the noise." Jasper apologies. "Bella found a spider, big, hairy, fat one, even I was scared."

Algie nods, gaping at me.

"I managed to throw it over the balcony." Jasper continues, angling his body to block Algie's view of me.

"Yes. Of course Mister Hale. I am so sorry to have bothered you. And I am so sorry such a _beast_ was able to enter our hotel."

"That's quite alright Algie. Bella is much tougher than she seems and I'm sure I will be able to _comfort_ her."

Algie coughs convulsively.

"Is there anything else?" Jasper enquires politely.

"No Sir, will you still be checking out tomorrow?"

"I don't think so Algie. Bella and I still have some business to conduct. I trust that won't be a problem?"

"Not at all Mister Hale, I will inform the desk immediately."

"Thank you." Jasper eases the befuddled man out the door and closes it behind him, turning to me and leaning back against it.

"Are we okay?" I ask.

"Oh yes." He replies with a smirk. "A minute ago he thought I was a killer, now he _knows_ I'm a sex god."

Really? My mighty eyebrow saunters upward in a way I _know_ I'm going to regret.

Casually he pushes away from the door, pulling away the comforter and letting it fall to the floor . . . .

Eek!


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all**

**Rated M for several reasons.**

**Chpt 48 The Sum of All Parts**

**BPOV**

If anyone could see us now they'd probably think we're a still from a perfume commercial. The backdrop is striking, an expensively furnished room, open balcony doors allowing a glimpse of the city skyline, grey light of early dawn casting everything in classic black, white and grey.

The perfect physical specimen of man, sprawled carelessly on the luxurious rug. A naked woman draped over him, resting her cheek on his exquisitely chiselled abs while he combs his fingers idly through her long dark hair.

I bet no perfumer could replicate the beauty of the scent of 'us' though, the rooms of the suite is saturated with it.

There's a sadness hanging over it right now though too. Nothing serious. Reality is intruding. We've been up here, together, for days and now we both need to hunt. In a few minutes we're going to have to get up, get dressed and leave, if we want to miss the traffic. Mundane yet strangely daunting.

"Do you want to shower before we go?" He murmurs and I nod, loving how easy it is for him to scoop me up into his chest as he stands.

He sets me down on the bathroom counter, I haven't walked anywhere for days, and starts the shower. When he's happy with the temperature of the water he lifts me up again and I wind my arms around his neck as he carries me into the shower and then sets me lightly on my feet.

I'm not sure if I've changed or just needed the right circumstances, but there's no embarrassment as we face each other, slowly and lovingly washing each other's bodies. Touching him, feeling his solidity has become a new obsession of mine. It may be that I have to keep checking he's real or just simply that keeping my hands to myself would be a criminal waste of an opportunity. He _is_ flawless, even with the scars. There are three hundred and seventy two of them, I counted.

I close my eyes as he washes my hair, not worried about the soap, just incredibly relaxed. Opening them again when he cups my face and presses his lips to mine. Slow, passionate, full of love. Beautiful.

He isn't, I think, the most romantic man in the world, but everything he says and does is working for me.

My eyes close again as he shuts off the water and returns me to the counter, carefully drying every inch of me with a fluffy white towel. Laughing quietly as he dries my toes and I squirm, he thinks it's cute that my toes are so sensitive. Toe torturer.

"Done." He announces, dropping a chaste kiss on my temple.

"I'll start the packing." I sigh and he chuckles again, he doesn't want to leave either but he's letting me do all the moping for both of us.

Instead of jeans I pull on a dress, feeling more woman than teenage hobo at the moment. The rest of our stuff I toss haphazardly into the bags before depositing them out in the hallway. Thus giving myself the opportunity to watch Jasper do a reverse striptease. It's such a long time since I've seen him dressed it comes as something of a shock. Goodness he fills his clothes well, wonder why I never noticed before?

Done he follows me out into the main room, pulling me into his arms and crushing me against his chest.

"We can come back, whenever we want to." He says reassuringly. "You still have shopping to do."

I nod, too weighed down to speak for a moment.

"Will it change?" I ask eventually.

"Will what change?"

"Us, when we leave here."

"Why would it?"

I shrug, enjoying the comfort of having him wrapped around me.

"We'll have to wear more clothes." He observes dryly.

"That's not what I meant." I huff.

"No." His voice is reassuringly certain. "It won't change. I'll still love you and you'll still love me."

Promise? Because I'm suddenly very afraid that the minute we walk out that door all this will disappear in a puff of smoke. I wish we could stay here forever. But I'm thirsty. Very thirsty. So much so that I can't resist rubbing my throat.

"Is it bad?" He asks quietly, immediately understanding.

I nod.

"We can be clear of the city in an hour or so at this time of the morning."

Algie knocks at the door.

"Yes?" Jasper's deep voice vibrates in his chest.

"Mister Hale, your car is out front, I'll take your bags down Sir."

"Thank you."

We listen to his retreating footsteps.

"Ready?" Jasper asks.

No. But I nod anyway and he chuckles, unwinding us and taking my hand to lead me out.

I take one last deep breath of 'our' scent. Flowers in the forest after rain, with musky undertones of sex. Unique.

We've just shared the most incredible time together and now, like everyone else, dead or alive, we've to go out into the cold light of day and see what happens next.

…..

Algie waves us off quite happily, the big tip obviously going some way to assuage his Jasper related issues.

After one of our more vocal 'voyages of discovery' someone obviously complained and the poor man had to come back again to check that no one had been murdered. This time the dominant vampire was busy possessing his woman in a fairly primal way, which I will admit his _woman_ was thoroughly enjoying, and he didn't take the interruption too well, it was AJ who answered the door and poor Algie actually pissed his pants.

AJ was pretty pissed himself when, despite my inappropriate physical reaction to that episode, I made him get dressed and go downstairs to apologise and explain himself.

But he did it.

And when he came back he made good on his promise to kiss and taste every inch of my body.

It took a very long time, for such a diminutive body, but his attention to detail was beyond reproach, beyond anything really . . . .

We're going to Maine, to see if Carlisle can shed any light on the 'weirdness'. I'm not keen, talking to Jasper about something so intimate is one thing, a virtual stranger? But I can see why we need to do it. At least a couple of things have changed. We discovered that I can't keep my shield up forever, then that it doesn't matter because Jasper can still feel me and I can still feel him. Up in our hotel idyll it hasn't been a problem, perhaps it never will be, but we'd still like to understand how it happened. And it isn't elastic that connects us anymore, it's more biological, like a sinew. It doesn't have much 'give' in it. When I sent him after Algie it hurt both of us, and not in a good way.

My life, my carefully crafted utilitarian future, has dissolved away and been replaced by possibilities I'd only occasionally even dared to dream about.

I've never felt connected to anyone before, even mom and I were rarely on the same page at the same time, but this, this is amazing. Every word, every touch of the last few days has been like another strand, binding us together until we can't tell where one starts and the other ends.

Its heaven.

And utterly shocking. He and I, where's the logic in that?

It doesn't make any sense whichever way I look at it. The contradictions, the uncertainties, they should be driving me demented, yet while I've been able to give them house room and a bit of attention I remain curiously unperturbed.

Whatever else might be going on that's thanks, in part, to Jasper. I'm not stupid, I know what he's been doing, patiently drawing out all my thoughts and fears for some curative air. I'm pretty sure I've never talked so much in my life and certainly not about me. Although it wasn't comfortable he made it so easy for me to speak I often didn't realise I had until another little weight floated away. It didn't hurt that he was prepared to voice his concerns first, or that so many of them were similar to mine. I would never have imagined him doing that for anyone, let alone me, how can you not love someone who would?

And I do love him. Already, if I look back, I have trouble distinguishing a point in time when I didn't.

Some of my concerns melted away without me even noticing at the time. We were entwined on the bed, idly discussing where we might go, what we might do, where we might live, with hindsight it was probably one of the most significant conversations of my entire existence, yet it felt completely natural. I suppose I hadn't expected that we'd part ways in the hotel lobby with a cheery promise to see each other again soon, but the relief when I realised we were planning to stay together, _be_ together, was almost palpable.

Yet we both have fears this time together hasn't resolved.

It's very difficult to be insecure when you can feel your lovers emotions and he can feel yours, even more so when there's still that 'weirdness' making it all _right_ in the background, but nevertheless being me, and therefore special, I've still managed it. I can't believe that a man like him won't get tired of a child like me eventually, I just can't get my head around what I might have to offer in exchange for him giving me him. I know that lack of self-esteem makes him angry but despite his protestations I still can't see what he sees. The woman he describes is a stranger to me.

And I've soaked up some of his fears too, I understand his words in Central Park better now, he recited me a Greek tragedy or two to illustrate his point. I don't want to become collateral damage in the inscrutable game of cosmic justice he worries is still being played. But I'm far more afraid of something happening to him.

Jasper has turned out to be a man I can love body and soul. I _know_ that he loves me and he knows that I love _him_. And I'm deathly afraid that all this is a magical illusion created somehow by my needy and gratuitously faulty brain. How can I admit to him that I think I did something to him, us, that night? When the resultant 'weirdness' might be the very thing that's holding us together, making him believe he loves me, that we love each other. What happens when it wears off or he realises? I can't even think about it.

What makes it worse is that he knows I'm hiding something and is man enough to let me be with it. That sucks.

I will tell him, I have to, I just don't know whether to do it before, during, or after, the talk with Carlisle.

And then we're back to the contradictions. I _know_ he's mine, just as I now know I'm _his_. Jasper Hale, Whitlock, Cullen, Whatever. The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems . . . .

I emit a gusty sigh, blowing the little cloud away from my bright blue horizon and he reaches across, capturing my hand to lift to his lips, kissing my knuckles before settling it on his thigh and rubbing his thumb across them.

So happy . . . .

By the time we find somewhere to pull off the road the flames in my throat are all I can think about and when he releases my hand I'm running before I've even hit the tree line.

He lets me lead, there's a comforting synergy in the way his running footsteps shadow mine. Intrigued I zigzag unnecessarily, amazed to find that he's still following perfectly, like a comet trail. A faint trace of that power I felt before thrums through my body.

Carnivore. I need one.

After a few minutes we're well away from civilisation and the prey is plentiful. But it takes me a minute or so more to find a scent that calls to me and despite his thirst I feel no pressure from my 'shadow', just calm acceptance.

As usual when I decide on what I want it doesn't take long for me to bring it down.

As my teeth sink into the cat's throat my shadow's hand drops briefly onto my shoulder and then he's gone, blurring away after his own meal while I gulp down the hot wet blood.

It comes as no surprise to me when he returns with his kill, dropping down quietly a few feet away to feed. Dark eyes watching me.

With the cat drained I push it away from me and surge to my feet. Still thirsty, scenting the air, ready for something else.

There! My head whips round and I'm off, the exocet.

Shadow running silently behind me . . . .


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 49 Welcome Home**

**JPOV**

It was a slightly unorthodox date in the end but I think she got the message.

I Jasper Whitlock, love thee, Bella Swan.

I will go back and finish school with you. Attend college with you. Make love to you every day. I will support you and take care of you, whether you realise it or not, for the rest of our existence.

There are so many things I want to show her, share with her that I can't wait to get started.

But first, we have to face the family.

I know Esme was harbouring hopes for a happy outcome when I admitted defeat and went after Bella but I doubt this is quite the one she had in mind. I'm not used to caring about what people think and if I'm honest its now really only Bella's thoughts that concern me, but still, I think it would hurt if Esme thought this was too soon or somehow disrespectful to Alice's memory. Which I suppose it is, so little time has passed for a vampire, but I can't help what's happened. I loved Alice but my feelings for Bella are so strong there was no way I was ever going to be able to fight them and certainly not for anyone else's sense of propriety.

I want her to feel comfortable here, with my family. I don't mind if she doesn't want to live with them permanently, I'm not even sure I do now that I've found her, but I know how important it is in this life to have somewhere you _belong_.

Beside me I can sense Bella's own nervousness as we turn off the interstate. I'm very happy with the way we can feel each other now, it's the most peaceful thing I've ever known. I'd send her some reassurance but her shield is down and this new development doesn't extend to me being able to influence her. Which seems right in a way, her emotions are her own and I should only be able to help with her permission.

I settle for squeezing her hand which is still securely wrapped in mine. She stirs slightly and smiles.

How thoroughly she's changing me, how little I care.

**BPOV**

As we turn down the road to the Cullen's place I check my face in the mirror. Yep, no changes there.

I'm so nervous, but then I suppose I am about to 'meet the in-laws'. What if they don't approve of me? What if they do approve and want us to live with them? What's Kate going to say?

Oh god. They're all lined up outside like a receiving line, at least they're smiling, at least I think they are . . . .

"Will you relax?" Jasper huffs gently, squeezing my hand again.

No, no, not happening, sorry . . . .

He stops the car but doesn't get out. Instead he pulls me towards him and gently kisses me, one hand reaching behind my neck to stroke my scar.

I sigh into his mouth and he pulls back to kiss my forehead. I don't need him to tell me he loves me, its washing over me in warm waves.

"Ready?"

I nod, waiting for him to help me out of the car so I can hold his hand, looking everywhere but at the others.

The driveway is very smooth, even for asphalt, I wonder who laid it, they deserve a drive laying Oscar or something . . . .

When we come to a stop and he squeezes my hand again my brain demands that my head be lifted and reluctantly it obeys.

Kate is beaming. Rose is smirking. Em is hopping up and down on the spot. Esme is beaming. Carlisle is watching us intently with a quiet smile.

Okay. Not so bad.

Smile. My brain orders. My lips quirk up and my cheeks bunch.

Jasper chuckles. Asshole.

"Welcome home." Esme almost squeals, breaking the awkward spell and darting forward to hug Jasper and then me. "I can't wait to hear what's been happening."

Em's next, pounding Jasper on the back and ripping me out of his hand so he can lift me up and attempt to crush me like a beer can. "Welcome back little Bells!"

"Umph." Is the only reply I can manage.

"Put her down Em." Rose drawls, winking at me. "Jazz is getting jealous."

He does look a bit uncomfortable, torn between claiming me back and happiness at being home with his family.

"Why must my pleasures always be rationed?" Em whines, dropping me back on my feet and ruffling my hair.

"Because you're a moron." Rose laughs, taking his hand as he steps back to her side.

"Welcome home son." Carlisle says, embracing Jasper briefly. "And Bella, I'm very glad to have you back too."

I nod, fidgeting slightly under his scrutiny, relieved when his smile widens suddenly and he embraces me too.

Did he just take a discreet sniff? What the?

"Come on." Esme urges, grabbing my hand. "Let's not stand out here on ceremony, let's get you settled in your room. Jasper! Bags."

"Yes ma'am." I hear him drawl behind me as Kate scoots up and grabs my other hand.

"We've been presumptuous and put you in Jasper's room with him." She whispers. "So if you want your old room back, speak now while the menfolk are making a meal of unpacking the car."

"Um. Jasper's room."

Kate giggles and Esme swells up like a bullfrog.

I'm not sure how to take that.

"She's pleased." Kate informs me with a laugh. "Aren't you Esme?"

"Oh yes, very pleased, for both of you."

"Um."

"It's alright Bella." She laughs. "I can be a patient romantic, you can tell me when you're ready."

"Thanks."

"Here we are." She says, swinging open the last door on the right. "It's not very feminine I'm afraid, all he wanted was somewhere to put his books and hang his clothes."

Oh.

I've never seen a space with so little furniture but so much personality.

"You've got the biggest bathroom though." Esme continues. "He's a terrible habit of breaking tubs and shower stalls with those lanky limbs so I supersized everything this time."

"Wow." I peek inside, it even makes the one in New York look small.

"We'll leave you to get settled." She says backing out and dragging Kate with her. "And catch up with you both later."

Alone I twirl around.

His scent is very strong in here.

Every wall is lined with book cases, crammed with books, I can smell the age of some of them.

Fiction. History. Airplane manuals, he wasn't kidding, tank manuals, text books, it's like a small town library all on its own. I can't see where he puts his clothes though. I sniff carefully, denim, and follow my nose. The wardrobe is behind the fiction and after a couple of false starts I manage to get it open. Not very revealing, but very neat, borderline OCD neat. The only personality a collection of cowboy boots, in various states of decrepitude, lined up against the back wall by a very old looking valise.

I close it again and go back to examining the room.

Wide balcony doors opening out onto the tree line. A slightly ratty but incredibly comfortable looking armchair, with a side table and lamp, a foot stool. A sleek and expensive looking stereo. That's it. No bed. I don't suppose he felt he needed one.

With a sigh I sink down in the chair and pick up the book left on the table.

Nietzsche. In German.

O-kay.

I get up again and start touring the shelves, reading the titles, not stopping when I hear him come in and place the bags down by the wardrobe.

In moments he's standing behind me, hands resting on the bookshelf, arms trapping me in place.

"There's no bed." He murmurs, rubbing his nose in my hair.

"U-huh."

"Shall I get the one from the guest room?"

"No!"

Everyone will know why . . . .

"Why not?"

I shrug, not prepared to put my embarrassment into words.

"Why not?"

"What will everyone think?" I squeak.

"That we're developing a healthy active sex life, I would imagine." He replies reasonably, brushing my hair over one shoulder so he can kiss me neck and scar.

Oh no. Not when there are other people in the house . . . . What would Esme think?

"I don't care what anybody thinks." He whispers, between kisses. "And they won't care what anybody gets up to in their own room, this is a house full of loving couples. Adults. You know what goes on, you've been here before."

I shake my head. This isn't my home and even if it was I don't think I could . . . .

He shifts forwards, pressing his erection into my back and I can feel warmth spreading through me.

I can't . . . .

"Do you have any idea?" He murmurs into my ear. "How many hours I spent sitting up here trying to read a book when you were in the house?"

My head shakes again.

"How hard it was, how hard _I_ was, thinking about what I'd like to do to you?"

Head shake, sharp intake of breath.

The titles of the books are looking a little blurry . . . . A King Tiger, is that some kind of prawn?

"Wouldn't you like to know what I was thinking about doing to you?"

Head shake. And a little moan as he rubs himself against me. Definitely feeling warm now. Better lean on the bookshelf, move away from him a bit.

One of his hands moves down, rubbing my leg, sliding up underneath my dress. I really should tell him to stop now, move away while he's left me an opening . . . .

"Are you sure?" His tongue flicks in and out of my ear and my traitorous body grinds back against him.

"J-ah-umph."

His low dirty chuckle has me ramming my thighs together, trapping his delicately climbing hand.

"I think you want to know." He purrs, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth and closing the gap between us. "I think you like my bad side."

I shake my head again.

His hand easily makes its away higher, prising my thighs apart as it goes.

"I know you do." He chuckles again. "I can feel it, I felt it in New York. My bad side turns you on."

"Please . . . . Jasper . . . . not here, not in . . . . the house . . . ."

"Really? You want me to carry you _out_ through the house?" He asks, as his hand reaches its destination, cupping my sopping panties.

"Window . . . ." I gasp, rolling myself into his hand.

"Are we doing anything to be ashamed of?"

His hand eases my panties out of the way, grazing across my flesh.

"N-no." Oh god, no.

"Do you want me to stop?"

No! No, no, no . . . .

A long finger plunges inside me and I gasp, leaning forward, not sure if I'm pulling away from him or making it easier . . . .

Another finger slips in, the two of them moving gently, my body sucking at them wetly.

"You're an asshole." I grind out, leaning further forward and bracing my hands on the shelf.

"I know." He chuckles, following me down, body folded over mine, teeth grazing my neck. "But we need to get over this hang up of yours somehow . . . ."

"Ungh."

"Do you want me to fuck you Bella?" He growls, fingers pumping now, slow but hard. "Do you care if anyone hears us?"

No, no, I don't care . . . .

"I need to hear you say it . . . ."

I can't.

"Say it." His voice is soft and gentle, loving.

I shake my head.

"I love you Bella, tell me, tell me what you want me to do to you right now . . . ."

"I . . . . I can't . . . ." I moan, twisted with desire, aching with it.

"I'm yours." He groans, curling his pumping fingers inside me, making me shake like a leaf in the wind. "Body and soul, take me, accept me, _tell_ me what you want."

"Oh . . . . _god_ . . . . please Jasper . . . . make love to me . . . . _hard_ . . . ."

"Oh love." He purrs unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall to the floor. "You only had to ask . . . ."

…..

Well that's one of my hang ups out of the way I guess, I wonder if he's working to a twelve step program?

I stretch luxuriously on the thick carpet and when I'm done he snuggles closer with a contented sigh.

Bed shopping tomorrow.

**A/N Just in case, I'm on Twitter, I don't tweet (it's my age, it scares me) but if anything happens I'll let you know what's next on there. Was that cryptic enough, do you think? ;o)**


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 50 Scientific Realism**

**JPOV**

I didn't have it in me to push for the audience with Carlisle, she's had to open up so much already, I know how hard that is for her and I want to help her, not overwhelm her.

Instead, despite the possible physical pain, she's going shopping with Esme and Kate. We need some bedroom furniture, not that I haven't fantasised about fucking her in my chair, its just no good for snuggling afterwards.

Snuggling. _Jesus_.

I've another reason not to press my luck. Pete and Char are coming for a visit, he's an extremely nosey bastard and I wouldn't have been able to keep him away for long. I haven't told Bella yet, she'll get nervous.

She knows I'm going to talk to Carlisle, tell him everything and while she's not thrilled about it she's a million times happier than she was when she thought she'd have to be there. She's going to be nervous when she gets back but Carlisle's got a shift at the hospital so at least she won't have to face him straight away. I'm not sure what worry she's hiding but I'm guessing its got something to do with what she calls 'the weirdness between us'. And I'm guessing, in her typically self-deprecating way, that she thinks it's influencing us somehow and I might not really love her.

My words don't seem to be working so time and actions are going to have to prove to her how wrong she is, although I'm hoping Carlisle can tell me something to help put her fears to rest.

Talk of the devil.

"I'll be in my study when you're ready Jasper." He mutters, strolling past me with his nose in a book.

"Thanks."

I'm hovering in the hall, waiting to see Bella off on her shopping trip like a lovesick schoolboy. Esme's already passed through twice and been hard pressed not to laugh at me, thank fuck Em and Rose are at school. I would have preferred to air my reluctance to let her out of my sight in private but Kate shooed me out of my _own_ room so she could talk to Bella.

I am turning into a fucking pussy.

_Finally_.

Kate and Bella flit down the stairs, smiling.

Kate goes straight out to the car and Bella comes straight into my outstretched arms.

Esme sneaks past pretending not to look as I pull Bella in tight.

Time ticks by as we breathe each other in.

"This is pathetic." She laughs finally, making no attempt to move away. "I'm only going shopping."

"I know." I sigh. "Promise you'll come straight back if it starts to hurt?"

"You don't have to worry about me, I'll be okay."

"Who says I'm worried about you?" I ask with feigned surprise. "I thought it was an accepted fact that men have a lower pain threshold than women?"

"Asshole." She giggles.

"Yes, but I'm _your _Asshole."

Esme honks the horn.

"I'd better go." She says, pulling back and pressing a brief kiss to my waiting lips.

"Bring me back a present!" I call after her as she darts out the door.

Right. I absolutely refuse to stand here and watch them drive away. That really would be pathetic.

"Come in." Carlisle calls as I rap on his door.

The room is in almost total disarray, open books and papers strewn everywhere, three screens connected to his laptop all displaying reams more words.

"Researching?" I enquire, with just the right amount of sarcasm.

"Of course." He chuckles, putting his book down and leaning back in his chair. "Her scent has completely changed, its very similar to yours now, although more feminine, you must have known that would pique my interest."

"Um." This is one of those times when it takes a strong mental command to stop you from scratching your head.

"Sit down." He laughs. "And tell me everything from the beginning."

…..

"So let me be sure I understand." He leans forwards again, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"Your relationship with Bella was improving?"

"We were having fun." I nod.

"You kissed her? And you didn't get your face slapped? That certainly _is_ an improvement."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" I huff.

"Oh _Jasper_." He twinkles. I hate it when he does that. "You have _no_ idea."

"Humph." I cross my arms over my chest, let him take the negative body language any way he likes.

"And then you went hunting?"

"Yes."

"And you don't remember what happened until you 'woke up' . . . . _ahem_ . . . . together?"

"Just the conviction that she needed something from me."

"And she doesn't remember anything either?"

"What she actually said was 'not really'." I clarify.

"Did she mention anything about having the impression she 'needed something'?"

Nope. I shake my head.

"And you don't remember biting her?"

"No." I shift uncomfortably, a habit I've picked up from Bella.

"And you've never bitten a, um, sexual partner before?"

"No."

Fuck this is excruciating, thank god Bella isn't here.

"And how does your scar on her neck make you feel? Again if you please, so I can be sure I understand."

"Proud." I mutter, examining my perfectly clean fingernails with undue attention.

"I see." A pause.

If he laughs I'll rip an appendage off, I swear to god, I haven't fucking changed that much.

"And you both find it satisfying when you touch it."

I manage a curt nod. He knows all this, there's nothing wrong with his memory, I only told him ten minutes ago.

"I'm sorry Jasper, this is just so _fascinating_."

"Humph." I re-cross my arms.

"Then you realised you were connected, as if by elastic?"

Nod.

"And there were some issues with excessive possessiveness?"

"I didn't think it was excessive." I snap.

"No." He drawls, managing to keep a straight face. "_You_ probably wouldn't."

I permit myself an exaggerated sigh.

"You and I both think she smells like you now, so does Emmett, I asked him. But interestingly Kate, Esme and Rosalie, cannot detect any difference in her scent from before, why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, a vampire's sense of smell isn't totally infallible but I've never known mine to be wrong."

"Quite." He muses. "But for so many of us to be wrong? I think there must be another reason and not your venom mixing with hers, I doubt that would have produced such a marked change and even if it had it would have faded a long time ago since you haven't bitten her again. You haven't, I take it?"

"No." I growl. Inclined to be offended he'd even ask, but then I did do it, once.

"And since being together in New York your connection is considerably less _elastic_?"

"Yes." Absently I rub my chest.

"Does it hurt now?"

"Not the way it did in New York, that was actually painful, this is more of a dull ache but it isn't getting any worse."

"Interesting." He muses for a moment, idly flipping through one of the books on his desk. "And now you can feel each other's emotions, even when her shield is up and you're not projecting?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." He stops to read something and then leans back in his chair again, tilting it as he laces his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.

The building feeling that he knows _exactly_ what's going on explodes into a certainty.

As if he can sense my impatience he opens his eyes, fixing them on mine.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

He nods.

"Fucking hell Carlisle, please, spit it out!"

He leans forward again, propping his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his hands.

"I think you are Mates."

Really? That's it?

"I was hoping." I shrug. "I haven't spoken to her about it, she's still so human in many ways, I didn't want to frighten her off."

"No Jasper." He's smiling and it's not a smile I like. "You misunderstand me. I do not mean mates in the commonly accepted sense."

And there it is again, the urge to scratch my head, what the fuck's he on about?

"Mates became a widely used vampire term to describe a committed couple centuries ago. As you know, Esme and I, Rosalie and Emmett, even yourself and Alice, would all be described as mates. The fact that a lot of us choose to follow the human custom and 'marry' as well is neither here nor there, to the rest of our kind we are mates."

I nod.

"That wasn't always the case. The term was originally applied to _actually_ mated pairs."

Nope, desire to scratch head, escalating.

"Like swans Jasper, quite apt if you think about it, vampires that mate for life."

"You and Esme are mated for life." I point out, completely unable to imagine them ever being apart.

He sighs. "This is very difficult to explain, obviously. Esme and I are together because we choose to be, there is nothing more powerful than our love holding us in place, and I sincerely hope we stay that way forever, but we don't _have_ to. Mated pairs are different. Once committed they will never be able to be apart, they will never want to be."

My face must be communicating my struggle to assimilate what he's saying because he keeps talking.

"It's instinctual. Chemical. Biological. Spiritual. Bound together for eternity. Destined, fated. Soul Mates."

I swallow, I'm getting an inkling of what he's trying to tell me.

"From what I can tell from my research it's extremely rare, which is probably how the term came to be misused, although it doesn't surprise me in your case, you've always seemed intrinsically more _vampire_ than any other I've met.

Bella too. I know she's clung to her humanity but she didn't have any other frame of reference, but still, considering how well she coped, adjusted, it's almost like she was born to it. Which, with hindsight, may well be why she survived your very near draining her. Destiny. Fate."

What the fuck?

"How?" I finally manage to ask, surprised at how strangled my voice sounds.

"Ah." He says, digging an ancient tome out of the pile. "That's one of the interesting bits. The ingredients may all be there but it requires something analogous to a ritual to set them off . . . . hold on . . . . here it is . . . . a bit like a contract, offer and acceptance."

Sorry, I don't remember sitting down at a table and signing anything . . . .

"It involves, ahem, claiming." He expands.

_Claiming_? That word conjures up a number of images in my head, some of them scarily familiar, others from some deep seated primal male fantasy . . . .

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. She'll fucking _kill_ me . . . .

"Carlisle, I never meant to, I didn't realise . . . . _shit_ . . . . what?"

He chuckles, leaning forward eagerly, fingers lacing together again as he regards me with something resembling gleeful anticipation.

"I bit her, I didn't know what I was doing, I don't even fucking remember, I must have f . . . . like an animal. She's going to be so mad, feel so _trapped_, I never would have forced her, I love her, I want her to be mine, mine for eternity, but I didn't do it deliberately, I know I didn't, what if she doesn't _believe_ me? _Carlisle_." My voice is pleading. "I never would have _claimed_ her like that if I'd known . . . ."

Never, I love her, I only want her to be happy, not feel like a fucking chattel . . . .

_Mine_? Mine forever? Soul mates? I can't _believe_ how happy that thought makes me . . . .

Fuck! I collapse back in the chair, shocked to the core.

His smile widens.

"You really do love her, don't you?"

"Carlisle, I can't explain, its . . . . ah."

"She's yours, forever. You will always be the most important thing in her existence and she in yours. It's a remarkable gift, I think."

"She's going to hate me when she finds out."

"I doubt it."

He's radiating that gleeful anticipation again.

"Why?"

"It's not clear." He admits. "It's not like we procreate, in the traditional sense, which is the usual reason for 'mating' in the animal kingdom. Physical protection? You'd be an ideal candidate. Protection from the loneliness of eternity, a mutual desire I would have thought. An overwhelming need to _belong_ to something, someone? To _matter_? Simple heartfelt love?"

Yes, I can identify with all of that, but that wasn't what I was asking.

"Why _might_ she not hate me?"

"Two halves of the same whole? Connected on the most intimate of levels. Sufficient unto each other. Blessed?"

He's playing with me, I can feel it, his gleeful emotions are billowing out of him like a warm wind.

"Bella isn't the type of woman to 'lie back' and just accept that." I point out, almost shuddering as I imagine her reaction.

"Oh Jasper." Carlisle's smile broadens. "Son, if it makes you feel any better you did not _claim_ anything. Try not to think of your bite as a statement of intent, more as your seal on the papers of surrender."

What?

"In all my readings one thing has always been abundantly clear. Male vampires do not take anything in the mating process that the female has not made a decision to give. Or, more correctly, you my dear Jasper are the one who was _claimed_."

Still smiling he leans back in his chair, the picture of innocent amusement.

What the fuck?

"It makes perfect sense if you think about it." He continues. "A vampire like Bella, beautiful, intelligent, mentally strong, surely nature would abhor for her to be 'paired' with an unworthy male? Think of it as the ultimate defence mechanism, or accolade. Only the female can _claim_ a mate."


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 51 The Other Shoe**

**JPOV**

I am, flabbergasted.

There's a nice old fashioned word.

Part of my mind is following what Carlisle's saying, filing it away for later and worrying fretfully about why the rest of it has abruptly ceased transmission. It's a little disconcerting to say the least but gradually it struggles its way back to consciousness and discovers me still sitting, statue like, in one of Carlisle's chairs.

I've been claimed.

How odd.

Not more than a few minutes ago I was fretting that the woman I love would be incensed by the idea that I'd claimed her like an animal, put my mark on her neck and bound us irrevocably together forever. Now I'm almost trembling with outraged male pride in the knowledge that _she_ actually did it to _me_.

I can't fucking believe it.

What's happened to free will? Where's my say in this? What am I, a fucking accessory? No small dog to put in your purse? Get a Jasper! They don't need feeding and never soil your hand stitched designer lining.

"You would never have bitten her if it wasn't what you wanted on an instinctual level." Carlisle's voice is calm and measured. "As I said, vampires _commit_ to pair."

"Are you a fucking mind reader now too?" I snap.

"No. I'm a _man_, I can guess what you're thinking."

I suppose . . . .

"How could I have chosen if I don't remember?" I don't want to be snarling at Carlisle but I can't seem to stop myself.

"Jasper, did you love her before this happened?"

"Yes." I don't even need to think about, I know did, I just didn't have a word for it then.

"So?" He asks, tilting his head to one side.

So? So?

I can't deny, the idea of being permanently connected to Bella fills me with elation. There's nothing else I would have asked for.

But I thought I loved Maria, Alice, what if this is just a fleeting thing too? What if, when the first flush of love wears off, I don't want to be with Bella anymore yet I don't have a choice?

Argh! I need to fucking destroy something!

Several trees and a large glacial deposit later I've worked off some of my excess energy, temporarily parked my wounded male pride, and am at least able to think about some of the other stuff Carlisle was telling me.

I've been claimed.

Mated pairs are very close, the physical pain and elastic is a manifestation of our desire to be together. I suppose that explains why it's less painful today, in New York I hadn't wanted to leave her bed to traipse downstairs and make nice with an inconsequential human, today I know she's happy, on a shopping trip with Kate and Esme.

Which isn't to say that I don't miss her.

The scent thing appeals to the animal in me, I can't deny. Carlisle says he thinks she will smell like me to all other males, the ones who know me will recognise and respect our connection and the ones that don't will simply be instinctively wary of a female carrying such a strong male scent. Good, because she's _mine_ and they need to be extremely fucking _wary_.

Our being able to feel each other explains a lot too. I'd assumed that the 'weirdness' had just made her shield immune to my gift, but I _knew_ it wasn't quite the same. When I read people's emotions it almost visual, like a paint chart, but the way I'm feeling Bella . . . . It's different. I _feel_ her, not as a series of color snatches, as an extension of me, like smoke curling around my soul, her emotions are almost secondary. I'd dismissed it as the intensity of being able to feel her the first time we made love, but I should have known better when she lost control of her shield, I just didn't think, it felt so natural . . . .

I've got questions but Carlisle says he still has research to do, so I guess they'll have to wait. Will it get stronger, this connection between us? Is there more to come or is it done now? Does this mean I have to do what I'm told for all eternity? What if she doesn't want to be with me one day, can she un-mate me?

My balls contract.

I don't like that idea, I don't like it at all . . . .

Does she even know? How could she? She doesn't remember anything either and how could she have possibly known mating was even an option? She's sweetly clueless about almost everything vampire related and even I had no idea it was even possible.

Instinct.

Somewhere deep inside her, something knew, something recognised _me_. Wanted _me_. Despite everything.

Hadn't I already surrendered? Wasn't I already a gooey mass of pathetically yearning hope? Wouldn't I have already done anything and everything to make her happy?

If she said the words, offered me her tiny hand, wouldn't I have taken it and just said yes?

Does it matter that it was her choice or does that just prove that she loves me and she wants me? How else would she have ever been able to make an emphatic statement like that? How many vampires could know beyond a shadow of a doubt that their mate wanted them, and only them? And if it had have been a masculine thing, as I would have assumed, wouldn't I have wanted to do it by now, if I'd known it was possible?

Of course she's hardly taken the time to investigate the alternatives. Not that she'd ever find a mate more worthy than me who could love her and cherish her more than I am going to.

Instinctual, Chemical, Biological, Spiritual.

I've been claimed.

For the first time in an hour or so I break into a grin.

I've been claimed and I think I might learn to like it.

Fuck, Pete had better not find out the finer points of how it works, my fucking eternity won't be worth living . . . .

Shit, there won't be any hiding it from Em . . . . Or Rose . . . .

We need to start looking for a place of our own, somewhere really, really, remote . . . . Possibly with a drawbridge and some vats of boiling oil . . . .

Fuck. How could she emasculate me like this? I thought she loved me.

Alright. I'm being a dick, but shit, this is going to take a hell of a lot of getting used to . . . .

I'm still mulling it all over when I scent Carlisle approaching.

He stops at the top of the rise surveying me, squatting in the center of the devastation, with well hidden amusement.

"Kate's just texted me. There are scents of unknown vampires in town, they're coming home, just to be on the safe side."

Immediately I surge to my feet. I know that vampires don't fight nearly as much as my own history would suggest, for the most part we just tread carefully around each other, showing each other the respect we deserve as vicious and often unpredictable predators. Nevertheless I think I'll just head out that way and see them home, for my own peace of mind.

"Are you coming?" I ask Carlisle as I move past him toward town.

"Yes." He answers simply, falling into step beside me as I break into a run. "Kate didn't say how many, might as well see who is crossing our territory."

I can't help but laugh, I may be the one with the physical connection but he's got his own protective streak where Esme and the family are concerned, it's just not the sort of thing we men tend to admit to out loud.

Jesus, what a day.

At least I'll get to see Bella again sooner than I thought.

"So how are you feeling?" He asks as we breeze past the house.

"Conflicted."

He chuckles but doesn't respond, there isn't really a lot he can say, is there?

**BPOV**

I've barely closed the door before we're pulling away and Kate starts, I knew she was too nice up in Jasper's room.

"So, what kind of _bed _do you want?"

Esme chuckles.

Oh god.

"Just something I can read on, I prefer it to a chair."

"Hmm." She muses. "You've more experience in these things Esme but surely it would have to be pretty sturdy to withstand all the _reading_ Bella and Jasper will be doing on it?"

"Don't worry Bella." Esme responds, winking at me in the mirror. "I know just the thing."

I groan inwardly, it's too late to regret giving in to Jasper's advances now and it isn't as bad as I expected, nobody seems to mind except me.

"Actually Bella." Esme continues, cooling my embarrassment even more. "I think you should get a full set of bedroom furniture, start fresh, you'll need your own closet too."

"I haven't got many clothes." I point out.

"You'll accumulate them over the years." She says with a laugh. "Even I do and I have very simple tastes compared to the others. Besides Jasper's OCD about his wardrobe space, military background I suspect, it used to drive Alice demented. Save yourself the grief, get one of your own."

"I don't know where we'll put it all." I mumble, worried about the cost and that fact that this isn't my home. "There's no wall space."

"You could always re-model, its Esme's speciality." Kate interjects.

"No." Definitely not. "I like Jasper's room the way it is."

"I thought you might." Esme says easily. "But it's your room too, let's at least put some more furniture in it?"

"Okay." I sigh, surprised to find that I'm more warmed than alarmed by everyone's assumption that I belong here.

The rest of the drive passes in idle chatter.

"Jasper asked me to bring him back a present." I admit as we pull into the parking lot of the local mall.

Esme starts to open her mouth but Kate beats her to it.

"Allow me Esme." She says haughtily. "You may be queen of interior décor but I know _exactly_ what kind of present Jasper will appreciate."

Esme giggles and I look down to inspect my denim clad knees. I fear I know exactly what she means almost as much as I fear the fact that I think it's a good idea . . . .

We pile out of the car and automatically scent the air.

Vampires.

"Oh dear." Esme mutters.

"At least six." Kate observes, eyes darting everywhere at once. "Anyone you know?"

Esme shakes her head and I shiver slightly, the low ache of my connection to Jasper suddenly throbbing with dull pain, I wish he was here.

"It's probably just a coven of nomads passing through but we should probably head home." Kate observes and Esme nods sending my anxiety soaring. When am I ever going to get used to meeting other vampires?

"Don't worry Bella." Esme assures me, noticing my alarm. "We're just being cautious. Besides Carlisle is our coven leader and if any meeting and greeting needs to be done it should be done by him."

I nod and climb back into the car with them, Kate smiling at me sympathetically.

"So then." Esme decides as she starts the car and backs out of the parking space. "Now I'm being temporarily deprived of one of my favourite pastimes I've no alternative but to quiz you instead."

I roll my eyes, apprehensive enough of talking about myself to forget the 'stranger danger'.

She laughs.

"When did you first decide that my son might not be a completely irredeemable asshole?"

I manage to loyally bite back a laugh of my own and for a minute I watch the urban scene outside slide back into dense forest. Might as well get it over and done with.

"He pushed me out of an airplane . . . ."

Kate explodes into peals of laughter and Esme joins in.

"Oh Bella." Kate gasps. "I knew you'd be interestingly weird the moment I met you . . . ."

The laughter is cut short as something slams into the back of the car, flipping it up into the air and sending it sailing across the treetops like a well flung shoe.

We scream, it's not like we're going to be injured, but it's got to be done.

The flight, although short, seems to go on forever but like everything gravity eventually pulls us back to earth. Upside down, with the bottom of the car pressed around our bodies like a Jell-O mold.

"Is everyone alright?" Esme rasps.

"Yes." I reply.

"Kate?" Esme demands.

There's an answering screech of metal.

"Ew, ugh." Kate wheezes. "Sorry, metal face pack."

The three of us release a collective sigh of relief and then, as one, start fighting our way free of the suffocating cocoon. It's not as easy as you might think, even super strength needs room to work. I don't like it, it's like being trapped in a pliable metal womb, senses cut off. I need out . . . .

The car flips up, abruptly righting itself and the roof is ripped away with a rending screech.

"He's not in here." A familiar voice snarls as hands reach in to pry us loose.


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 52 Thorn Within**

**BPOV**

Newcomer, whatever the hell his name was, shit.

We're pulled roughly from the wreckage with such speed that there isn't even time to panic, practised hands locking round and holding us in place. Esme and Kate share a look and Kate visibly relaxes, the tall vampire gripping her remaining unshocked. My instinct is to freak out and struggle with all my might but I fight it back and follow their lead.

"I thought you said that scent was The Major's?" The one holding me asks in a deep gravelly voice. "Or did you forget to mention that he was a girl?"

There are some guffaws and Newcomer glowers ominously.

"It fucking is." He growls, advancing on me and I shudder reflexively, I can see the lines on his exposed skin where HRN and Jasper tore him to pieces.

Instead of the blow I'm expecting, he's got to be pissed about that, he leans in and takes a surprisingly delicate sniff.

"She smells just like him, maybe a bit more flowery." The confusion in his voice is evident.

Another vampire I recognise from the Texas A'hole Massacre nods his head in agreement. Without the others for reference I can't tell if he's small, medium, or large.

"Brilliant." My captor mutters unhappily under his breath as Newcomer moves away to inspect and sniff Kate and then Esme.

"What the fuck's going on?" One of the other's demands.

"Doesn't matter." Newcomer muses. "We'll take her, she was with him in San Antonio, get rid of the others."

"No!" The three of us shout together.

"_Baby_." Newcomer drawls, stepping forward and grabbing Kate's left breast, pulling and twisting it hard enough to make her gasp in pain. "Nobody gives a shit what you think."

"I might." Another, familiar, voice interrupts. Cornell, ghosting in from the trees, tipping his Stetson back to free his handsome face from the shadow.

What? Hope and fear surges through me.

But Newcomer just snorts and steps back submissively. Wait, I thought they were on opposite sides?

Cornell glides over to me, leaning right in so his dark hair tickles my face and inhaling deeply like a connoisseur of fine wine.

"_Interesting._" He murmurs, moving on to sniff Kate and Esme before returning to face me.

"We'll take this one." He informs the others, holding my eyes, his face dispassionate. "We only need one left to deliver a message."

"Two brunettes, one blonde, I like variety in my diet." Newcomer purrs.

"Donovan, my friend, that's hardly scientific, perhaps we should ascertain their importance to our quarry?"

"Pah!" Newcomer, Donovan, snaps. "It ain't rocket science. That's one brunette, we should leave the blonde, eventually."

Cornell nods, turning away from me.

"No!" Kate and I scream, both recognising that Esme is now superfluous to requirements.

"No?" Cornell asks, zeroing in on me, face too close. "Why no?"

"Esme." I nod toward her. "Is the wife of our coven leader."

"You know." Cornell drawls, resting a hand on my cheek. "I still can't decide if you're spectacularly inept at this or some kind of genius."

I swallow hard as his red eyes bore into mine for what feels like the longest time.

"Fine." He decides eventually, releasing me. "Bring the brunettes and leave the blonde to tell the tale. And Donovan, make sure she's _actually_ able to talk when you're done."

Esme and I scream and struggle but our mouths are swiftly covered and we're dragged away.

No one's covered my ears though . . . .

Arms heft me up, stringing me out like a hide drying in the sun, a position it's impossible to fight away from if you don't want to be ripped limb from limb by the stone grasp of the hands holding you. I can feel my muscles stretching, my joints threatening to pop.

It's painful, but nothing like the pain in my chest, like something's threatening to rip the sinew right out of me and I close my eyes, hanging onto it mentally with everything I have.

Oh god, Jasper, I _need _you . . . .

**JPOV**

Ouch. Fuck.

My run falters and I clutch my chest reflexively.

"What?" Carlisle demands.

"I don't know." I shake my head, increasing my speed. "Hurts now."

"Let's go!" He growls, breaking into a dead run.

I keep up with him easily, fighting back the urge to surge ahead, what the fuck?

The acrid stench of venom reaches my nose a long time before the scents I recognise.

My _brother_.

A couple of the vampires Nev and I dismembered in Texas.

Esme.

Bella.

Kate.

My savage roar makes Carlisle jump, even though he was forming one of his own at the time. My increased speed leaves him behind.

The smells in this clearing tear at my composure, threatening to shred it like claws.

I can't even stop growling as I gather Kate's abused body into my arms and Carlisle crashes to a stop beside me.

"He said." She snarls weakly. "That you're to find him. Before it's too late."

Carlisle tugs me out of the way, embracing Kate and studying her injuries as I get to my feet, scanning the clearing. Absorbing everything. The wrecked car. The unfamiliar scents, the familiar ones, all leading away in an unavoidable trail that might just have well been laid with flashing neon arrows. The message clear and understood. This way brother . . . .

I could go mad now. Lose every shred of myself to my instincts, my fury, my fear. But I can't. I've learnt, over the years, that the way I work is different to most people, vampires. I've felt their rampaging emotions and fears, seen how they manifest themselves on the surface, realised how that raging tumult basically fucks that person over. My mind, emotions, whatever, have never worked that way. Maybe something to do with my gift, or that I was always destined to be a soldier, the reasons why have never really bothered me. Oh, I feel the things everyone else feels, I'm just able to think and act around them. One of the reasons I'm often described as a cold and heartless bastard. Although, of course, I could just _be_ a cold and heartless bastard.

So it's something of an inconvenience to have to do what I'm doing now, ruthlessly dividing myself up and sectioning myself off.

"Carlisle." I command his attention. "Get her something to eat. Human if you need to, we don't have time to fuck about."

He hesitates and then nods, gaining his feet and blurring away.

"Jasper." Kate whispers. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. Get your strength back. I need you."

She doesn't need my sympathy, she was fighting for survival before I was even born and if she gets her hands on the ones that did this to her she'll likely be even less forgiving than I will.

Carlisle returns and we make the necessary calls as we watch Kate feed on the buck he's caught.

From time to time his eyes re-scan the clearing as if Esme will magically appear and this nightmare will come to an abrupt end. It won't and I almost feel sorry for him. Poor bastard's in my world now. There one where you get nothing but what you take by your own hands, while you're waiting for 'the sword of damocles' to cleave you in half to the accompaniment of maniacal cosmic laughter.

I close my eyes, still struggling, while a healing Kate explains everything that happened.

Her rage and Carlisle's fear are the claws raking over my skin. Their tangible desire for action a goad to mine. But the pain in my chest centers me and holds me still. That's Bella. And fucked up, terrified Jasper, will _not_ help her now.

Terrified Jasper is relatively easy to control. Left to his own devices that man, the anguished lover, would have caught up with Cornell and his merry band by now, very probably getting himself, and Bella, killed in the process. I know better and I know I need to _do _better. Hence I'm still here even though my love and fear is threatening to actually make me nauseous. Yet another new sensation she's brought into my undead life. I can feel her, but only as the distant end of our strained and painfully throbbing connection. With my eyes closed I can see her, hear her voice, inhale the echo of her scent, imagine the shadow of her body pressed against mine. And its _killing_ me . . . .

Terrified Jasper, the one staring into the abyss that is a life without her, has a new little friend, courtesy of our mating I presume. And he's very compelling, embedded as he is in the man I want to be and the one I was, am. Bella's Mate. A potentially lethal combination of lover, warrior and vicious killer. Who recognises that he needs her, like sustenance, in order to survive.

What we need now is the soldier, the cool emotionless tactician, who can use and protect his pieces wisely.

What we're going to get is something unknown and potentially not very pleasant.

"Do you have any idea what this Cornell would want with you?" Carlisle asks quietly when Kate's done and I open my eyes to find them both watching me with the beginnings of trepidation.

Yep, we're well beyond what Bella calls my 'Asshole' side already.

"No. I haven't laid eyes on him in over a century. But he was there, in San Antonio, when I went for Bella."

"And Esme?"

"Bella told him you were our coven leader, he's hedging his bets, if I don't come after Bella he's hoping that you'll command me to come, or bring me, in exchange for Esme."

"Will he harm them?"

I shrug. My _brother_ is not given to violence toward women just for the sake of it but he's a ruthless bastard when it comes to getting what he wants. I've a feeling this Donovan character definitely falls into the category Carlisle's thinking of and fearing. Neville was right, I should have killed him while I had the chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I be so fucking stupid?

We wait in silence and I close my eyes again though it isn't long before Em and Rose crash into the clearing.

"Carlisle!" Em demands. "What the fuck?"

Hearing it again is probably not the best thing for me right now but nevertheless I force myself to listen, and plot.

"I want my mom back." Em's growl drags me back to the clearing. "What's the plan Jazz?"

I open my eyes, unsurprised to find them all looking at me expectantly. Everyone brings something to the family, compassion, love, humour. I bring the death and destruction. Yet I hesitate to answer.

"Jasper, son." Carlisle moves forward and rests his hand on my shoulder. "No one is going to judge you for being the only one capable of bringing us through this and out the other side. We love you. _Bella _loves you."

I stare into his eyes. Will you judge me afterwards for bringing this down on your head Carlisle? Again. When you find out that even so I'll throw each and every one of you under the bus if it advances my goal to get Bella back? Do you even see the viper you have in our nest? I could almost laugh. Does he doubt that I'll do it, does he think I've changed so much I'm having a crisis of conscience that will leave poor Esme swinging in the wind?

I've done some bad things. Through fear, ignorance and manipulation but I've also done some bad things because I had to. And those I have _never_ regretted.

I will rend and tear. I will destroy each and every motherfucking _cunt_ involved in this. And if Bella is harmed I will leave them to heal. And then I'll do it again. And again. For _all_ of fucking eternity. And my only regret will be disappointing the woman I love.

So long as she's alive to be disappointed.

I must be projecting my sincerity and cold rage because Carlisle steps back and every one of them shivers briefly, like a staccato Mexican wave.

"Alright. This is what we're going to do first . . . ."


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 53 Passive Aggressive**

**BPOV**

We travel like this for hours, suspended between silent vampires, before stopping and being tossed into the back of a rental truck for yet more hours.

Neither Esme or I speak, somehow it doesn't seem like a good idea, instead we hold hands and lose ourselves in our thoughts. Jesus I hope hers are better than mine . . . .

When we finally stop again I can feel the night air is several degrees cooler as we're manhandled out of the truck and dragged inside a huge old house before being dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

We scramble together for comfort, watching and listening as vampires dart everywhere shouting and carrying out instructions, we'd probably make a run for it but however chaotic it feels there are always four standing around us as we kneel on the moth eaten rug in the once grand entryway.

I can't follow everything that's going on, a lot of them seem to be speaking Spanish, but the gist of it seems to be that trouble is eagerly anticipated and it's everyone's duty to be prepared.

After a mere few minutes the frantic activity ceases, like it never was. I counted about thirty vampires all told and now I can only see six and detect the presence of about a dozen others. Military genius I'm not but it all has the air of a trap about it and from Esme's frown I'm assuming she's reached the same conclusion.

We're bait. And it isn't hard to guess who for.

Beyond that I'm stumped. I thought Cornell and Donovan were enemies, they seemed to be intent on killing each other in Texas. Why are they together now? Why do they want Jasper? What are they going to do with him, to us? It's frustrating, I'm so naïve and useless I can't even begin to fathom it out . . . .

With nothing concrete to focus on my ridiculous brain uses the time to unleash my terrified but suddenly fertile imagination until I can feel panic welling up inside me.

Just as it's about to break free and overwhelm me, like they knew and had been waiting, Cornell and Donovan return.

"What are we going to do with them?" Donovan demands, looking us over in a less than comforting manner.

"We just need to keep them subdued and out of the way." Cornell shrugs, studying me thoughtfully, his gaze is quite compelling and I almost miss the vicious gleam that appears in Donovan's eyes.

My attention snaps to him and Cornell follows it.

"I don't think anything extreme will be required Donovan." He chuckles. "I'm sure the ladies can be trusted to behave themselves."

Esme nods and I blink.

"I think we'll split them up though." He muses, winking at me. "Just to be on the safe side."

Donovan huffs and wrenches Esme out of my grasp, dragging her away with one of our 'guards' hot on his heels.

"Bella?" Cornell offers me his hand. "It is Bella, isn't it?"

I nod reluctantly and climb to my feet, pointedly ignoring his hand, though he doesn't seem to mind as he leads me upstairs and into what, thankfully, turns out to be a well-stocked library. The two guards waiting in the hall as he ushers me inside.

"My favourite room in the house." He observes, sprawling in a leather chair, long jean clad legs stretched out in front of him. "Please, sit down."

No thanks.

My continued vertical status doesn't seem to bother him either as he removes his hat, throwing it on the table and combing his fingers through his hair.

On my side tension builds in the silence that follows as he studies me thoughtfully again.

"I hate waiting." He drawls. "It's always seemed like an occupation for losers."

Really? You've kidnapped me so you can spout random opinions at me?

This would definitely be an occasion where I'm glad I have trouble vocalising what I'm thinking. As terrified as I am, and as freaked out by what I've imagined was done to Kate, I'm pathetically grateful that so far he at least hasn't hurt me. Although I'm a long way from feeling safe around him, for one he let Donovan hurt Kate and for two, Jasper says he effectively sent me out of that canyon to get killed so he could escape. But on balance I'd say he's the lesser of two evils right now, which sets my imagination causing trouble again, Esme.

"You're one of the coolest customers I've ever met." Cornell's contemplative voice pulls me back to the here and now. "I can't detect a trace of fear, anger, or even curiosity. You could almost be waiting for me to finish valeting your car rather trapped here and at my mercy."

I don't like the way his lips quirked over the word mercy.

"What are you?" His eyes narrow slightly.

Small, scared and totally out of my depth, that's what I am.

He sighs with exaggerated patience.

"I don't have any real interest in you per se." He begins after a moment. "Rather I'm hoping to take advantage of your impromptu stay with me. Its Jasper I'm interested in."

I kinda worked that out already.

"I was inclined to downgrade my estimation of Donovan's intelligence a notch or two but I have to admit that when I caught your scent I thought you were him too. I should have known that would be too easy. I am very curious though, I don't have quite the honed senses of The Major but I'm pretty sure you didn't smell like him the last time we met."

I shrug. I'm pretty sure I didn't too, in fact I still can't smell it now, just his lingering scent on my clothes from our last embrace.

My heart constricts. Oh god, Jasper, he must have gone nuts by now.

"Hmm." He muses, bringing his legs under him and leaning toward me with his arms resting on his thighs. "I've no explanation for it but I'm prepared to use it my advantage. Of course this would be much easier, for both of us, if I knew what your connection to him was."

I blink.

"Clearly there is one. I've tracked him here and here you are. You were obviously with him in San Antonio, such a shame I didn't realise it at the time. And now you smell like him, with a hint of freesia, strangely beguiling if I may say so."

I'd rather you didn't its making me uncomfortable.

"What I really need to know, is now I _have _you, will he come after you, even though he'll know what I want."

I so very nearly ask him, what do you want?

"So quiet and still, I like that in a woman, usually."

He sighs.

"Donovan is a staunch advocate of torturing that information out of you but I don't really hold with brutalising women, especially if I want to sleep with them."

His smile, showing his even white teeth, freezes my venom. I don't want to be tortured, Jesus . . . . Then another thought hits me.

"Esme?" I gasp.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement that will keep her out of his clutches. You could, for instance, tell me what I want to know?"

Shit! My mind is flying. If I tell him the truth then maybe Esme will be okay. But what if it somehow makes things worse for Jasper? I don't know what he wants with him but I'm guessing if it was anything good he would simply have visited the house and rung the doorbell like a normal person, vampire. Oh god Jasper, help, I don't know what to do . . . .

Cornell laughs softly, relaxing back into his chair.

"Finally, a reaction. Thank you Bella, I think you've told me enough, I'm prepared to take the rest on a little faith."

My mouth opens and closes with a snap as I fight to keep my eyes from narrowing at him. Yes I'm still scared but I'm feeling the stirrings of anger. What the hell have Esme, Kate and I done to him or that bastard Donovan to be treated so callously?

Still laughing he rises fluidly to his feet and I take an involuntary step back, as he invades my personal space, which seems to amuse him even more.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment Bella I just need to pop downstairs and check that Donovan is looking after _your_ Esme properly. After all you did tell me what I wanted to know even if it wasn't intentional. Let's try for a little bit of faith on both sides shall we?"

Blink.

He reaches out to stroke my rigid cheek with the back of his hand.

"Behave yourself." He murmurs, turning abruptly and striding to the door.

I watch him leave, poised to fling myself through the nearest wall but Gravelly Voice and another vampire dart into the room and take up station to watch me.

I need to think and I do all my best thinking when I should be reading a book.

Keeping my eyes averted I skirt carefully past Gravelly Voice and pick a book at random from the shelf, scurrying back to a chair with it and sitting down.

One of them snorts derisively. Not a reader, huh?

But I can't think, not even with the friendly blur of printed words in front of my unfocussed eyes. I've no idea what I should be doing right now, thinking, escaping, having a panic attack, wearing a groove in the carpet?

I need to get away and warn Jasper.

Damn, it's the only thought I've got I'd better go with it. But how? Each and every self-defence lesson Em and Jasper taught me is indelibly imprinted in my vampire mind but that's the problem, I've no idea how to actually attack someone and regardless I'm no Valkyrie, even if I knew how there'd be fuck all chance of success. Gravelly Voice and his friend are huge compared to me and the house and grounds still hold twenty odd vampires that I'm aware of.

Shit. Of course. My shield is up, like they taught me, be aware of danger.

Well I'm already aware of the fucking danger, what I need now is to be the unobservable entity.

My shield comes down with a mental clang and as I've done in the past I visualise painting thick layers of lacquer on it, making it thicker. It's boring, literally the mental equivalent of painting a boat, but I set to it with a passion. Broad strokes, up and down, just like Charlie taught me.

"So what's the fucking plan now?" I hear Gravelly Voice ask his companion after a minute or so.

"The boss seems to think the guy he wants will come after the women. So we just sit and wait I guess."

"Brilliant." Must be Gravelly's favourite word. "Not only have we come charging up here looking for the harbinger of death but now we've deliberately pissed him off as well."

"Glass half full?" His companion chuckles, hitching his butt up on the corner of the big desk in the center of the room and visibly relaxing.

I'm fed up with broad strokes. Wax on, wax off, wax on, wax off . . . .

The pair of them are deep in conversation now and I feel the pressure to act closing in on me. What if I can't get this done before Cornell comes back?

No, better to be sure than get caught and I tune back into their conversation in the hope it will distract me and tell me something Jasper will need to know . . . .

After the battle in Texas, Cornell, who these two appear to be loyal to, found Donovan and his men healing in the canyons while he was searching for The Major. Instead of finishing them off as the others expected an already victorious Cornell recruited them into what Gravelly Voice considers a suicide mission, going after said Major.

God I wish they'd say why . . . .

Next they move on to discussing me, oblivious to the fact I'm in the room. Apparently I am just Cornell's type and right now they're making a wager on how long it will take their boss to persuade me to come back to Texas with them once 'business' is taken care of.

They'd be better off betting on it not happening . . . .

Very carefully I lay my book down on the table. Euripides, master of Greek tragedy. I hope that's not an omen but a shudder runs through me anyway and I look up sharply, but neither of my 'guards' is paying attention.

So after a moment I glide to my feet.

Still nothing. They've moved onto discussing Donovan, one step above primordial slime as far as Gravelly Voice is concerned, he can't wait till this is over and they can get rid of him.

A step toward the window.

And another.

Donovan was one of Maria's most highly regarded lieutenants and is apparently such a scumbag he doesn't even care that Cornell defeated and killed his mistress, his only goal at the moment is the destruction of the man I love. That almost brings me up short, but I don't have the luxury to think about it now, it's more important that Jasper knows it . . . .

In another step I'm beside the already open window, easing it further until there's enough room to slip through. I pause for a moment to check my surroundings and scent the air, then I push off, floating lightly toward the ground.


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 54 The Silken Prison**

**BPOV**

Fear gives my feet wings and I'm across the overgrown grass before even I realise it, angling my run to send me south, back to Jasper.

Weirdness or blind love I don't know, but right now I need to feel his solidity more than I've ever needed to feel anything in my life and it's almost as if I can tell where he is, like our connection is reeling me in. I grab onto that sensation and go with it, no questions asked, very few other thoughts in my fixated head.

The running feet behind me manage to break through though and a scream of frustration and fear almost escapes me.

Stupid fucking shield, surely it can do better than this? How did they even know? Maybe it's got a limited range and only worked on the guys in the room with me? Or perhaps it's just that others were more focussed on me and heard me. Jasper always says I'm woefully lacking in Ninja skills.

Oh Jasper, I'm sorry, you need someone so much less useless than me . . . .

I'm quite fast but even so barely five minutes have passed, all of them virtually faceless forest, before I realise that I'm about to be caught. Two groups are closing on me in a pincer movement. I push myself as hard as I can but the conclusion is inevitable.

A rock hard body crashes into me and briefly my gaze flips upward, taking in the stars, before it rolls down to observe the rocky ground coming up to meet me.

"Umph." The body's owner gasps even as it gets an unbreakable grip on me.

"Got her!" He shouts, like I'm the greased pig at the county fair.

I struggle and scream but he just rolls with me easily, actually chuckling from time to time.

"Steady darlin'." He growls playfully. "Jimmy's got you."

The fight goes out of me as the other pursuers close in around us.

"Good catch." Donovan growls. "Let her up."

Immediately Jimmy jumps to his feet and I roll over to look up. Five of them staring back at me. But the sight of Donovan and his malicious smile is by far the worst. It sends shivers down my spine.

"Get up bitch." The fact that he's smiling as he says it is really no incentive . . . .

Darting forward he grabs my arm and jerks me easily to my feet, twisting it viciously instead of letting go of it, dragging me flush into his stocky body.

"Oh baby." He chuckles darkly. "You've fucked up now."

And then he starts to laugh properly, hauling me back the way I've come. This time I struggle as violently as I can but it's another mistake as he simply twists my arm harder until I can feel it start to tear inside.

"Keep it up bitch." He murmurs happily. "I like 'em feisty."

Behind us the others laugh.

I'm practically running alongside him on my toes now, desperately trying to stop my arm from ripping any more. It hurts, reminding me bizarrely of being human, although the nature of the pain is different. It's altogether _fierier_ than anything I can recall from my klutz years.

The journey back to the house is quicker than I would have anticipated and Donovan marches me inside and back up to the library without pausing, opening the door and shoving me hard into the big table with another vicious twist of my arm. Two things happen at once. I feel my previously indestructible skin pop like a burst seam and the table collapses explosively under my freefalling weight.

I've only a moment to marvel at the way the smell of my own venom stings my nose and utter a pained cry before he's on me, hammering me into the floor and tearing at my clothes in a way that speaks of plentiful practice . . . .

I may not be a fighter but on instinct alone I writhe and scream with all my might. _This_ is now the most terrified I have been in my entire life. Somehow I manage to get an arm free which pummels uselessly at his back but the reality is he's far stronger than me. My shirt surrenders easily and the hard fabric of his rubs against my skin as he yanks away my bra. I've never felt so helpless, Em and Jasper's self-defence lessons are scrolling through my mind far too fast for me to latch onto any of it, hence the admonishment to practice I suppose . . . .

"Donovan." Cornell's voice drawls. "Drop."

He stops his assault on my clothes but doesn't release me, instead he grins evilly and then darts in, like a snake, crashing his mouth down over mine and attempting to shove his tongue between my rigid lips.

"NOW! Donovan." Cornell orders in a surprisingly hard voice.

Donovan sighs, pulling back to smirk and grind his hips into me.

"Later baby." He whispers, liking my chin.

Still smirking he climbs to his feet and rearranges the bulge in his jeans before sauntering out and closing the door behind him.

On auto pilot I scramble backward into the corner of the room, boots skidding on the polished wooden floorboards as I attempt to cover my exposed breasts as best I can. Panting hard, even though I've nothing to say and no need for the breath.

Cornell just watches me, his face expressionless.

"That's an interesting gift you've got there." He observes eventually. "Karl and Archie are two of my oldest coven members, there's no way you'd have given them the slip like that without a little help. Are you using it on me now?"

I shake my head. Being caught in the forest was a bit like hitting the re-set button, I'll need to rebuild the layers before I can try that again and at the moment it's the furthest thing from my mind.

"Good." Carefully he toes the wreckage of the table into one of the other corners, not bothering to actually pick any of it up.

"I need a new shirt." I whisper quietly when he's done.

"Yes you do. But you aren't going to get one. I should really make you strip completely, being naked drains the bravado out of most women."

I try not to react but the gasp of horror is out before I can stop it.

"I meant what I said Bella. I mean you no specific harm but you are currently part of my plans and I need to know that you will behave. Otherwise I'll simply have one of the others drain some venom out of you so you aren't strong enough to cause any trouble."

He stalks toward me and I shrink back into the corner, feeling the walls give slightly, debating whether to just push through them and take my chances, when he stops a few feet away, by a small side table.

"I almost forgot." He says, fishing in his jeans pocket. "I have something for you."

He produces something long and slim, offering it up as if for my approval. An index finger, Esme's, I recognise the scent.

"I'll leave it here." He continues, placing it on the table. "In case you're inclined to reunite her with it later."

You fucking bastard!

"Now, now." He chuckles, reading my face like an open book. "If you hadn't been thoughtless enough to escape without her there would have been absolutely no need. A lost finger is not a terribly painful dismemberment. If you try it again I'm prepared to go a lot further."

Oh Esme, I'm sorry, I didn't even think. I'm shit at this. Shit, shit, shit. And _you_, this time my eyes do narrow slightly, you'll pay for this.

He laughs and folds himself easily into one the chairs.

"Have you heard of the Silken Prison?" He asks.

No.

My silence makes him smile.

"It's a Japanese concept, treating your enemy with honour." He pauses looking for a reaction he isn't going to get. "I'd like you not be my enemy, that's something of an honour in itself because I don't usually care over much, in fact I'm even a little tempted to invite you back to Texas with me once this is over. All the sunbathing you can handle and a very relaxing environment now that I own it all."

"Once what is over?" I find myself asking.

"Once I've killed The Major, naturally."

Don't react. Don't.

"Isn't he technically your brother?" I ask quickly to cover my recoil at hearing it said out loud.

"I see you've been mixing with the 'touchy feely, we're all just humans really' brigade." Cornell snorts. "It is true that we share the same sire, the lovely Maria, may she rot in hell. And she _was_ toying with the concept of forging familial bonds at the time she changed him. It took her a while to realise she wasn't mother material I'm afraid. The poor boy was very confused, what with all the sex."

He laughs, eyes focussed on another time rather than me and I take the opportunity to arrange my hair and hands a little more modestly.

"He and I never really took as brothers, he was jealous of my pre-existing relationship with Maria and for my part I was already plotting my escape and couldn't see the point of making nice with the newbie. Besides I expected him to outlive his usefulness by the first year mark. He was just a big blonde doofus who succumbed to her every whim.

He stretches his legs out in front of him with a contented sigh and returns his scrutiny to me.

"He didn't stay a doofus for long, when his strength didn't wane and his mind and gift started working Maria was in seventh heaven, she thought she'd found the ultimate weapon. I don't think she ever realised he wasn't as pliable as he looked, how often he usurped or twisted her authority in the name of some _human_ sense of honour.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing nice about the vampire you call my _brother,_ he's a stone cold killer the same as me, he's just got used to having an excuse for it."

"You almost sound like you're jealous." I venture.

"I do, don't I?" He chuckles, crossing his legs at the ankle and wagging one of his booted toes at me. "I wasn't. Her growing obsession with him made it easier for me to get away in the end. I am kicking myself though. If I'd known how he'd turn out I would have offed him as a newborn and saved myself, and now you, a whole lot of trouble."

"Why?" It seems like the most obvious question.

"Why do I want him dead?"

Do not react.

I nod tightly wondering if his talkative mood will extend to answering.

"I learnt many things from Maria. One of them was the efficacy of eradicating threats and complications quickly and decisively. Jasper is both. I can't rule out that some warped sense of loyalty to Maria won't compel him to come after me and I've worked too hard to take that risk. Especially after he showed up in San Antonio at exactly the right time to save her."

It's on the tip of my tongue to hurl at him that Jasper came for me but some instinct tells me its probably better he doesn't know that.

"He didn't save her." I point out instead. "And I honestly don't think he'll care that you've killed her."

"Perhaps you're right." He allows. "But I'm not taking the chance, and I have other reasons for wanting him dead."

Before I can muster up the courage to ask he wrinkles his nose.

"Donovan hurt you?"

"Just a little tear." I mutter.

"Is it healing?"

I shrug, if pain is an indication then yes, I can't check without waving my chest in your face.

He darts out of the chair, hunkering down in the corner with me, definitely well into my personal space and I stop breathing automatically.

Gently he tugs the hair away from my shoulder, being careful not to disturb the way it's draped over my breast as he inspects the damage.

"Just a little tear, as you say." He murmurs, trailing his finger over it. "Such a shame to have scarred your beautiful skin. I will remember that when I'm done with Donovan's services."

I shudder, for a variety of reasons, as his finger traces larger circles on my shoulder.

"Donovan told me The Major claimed 'ownership' of you in Texas." He continues softly. "Is that true?"

"Nobody owns me." I whisper, closing my eyes, dimly aware that I'm not entirely telling the truth.

His questing finger gently parts my hair.

"And yet there's something akin to a cattle brand on your neck?"

I start to tremble as his finger rubs lightly over my, Jasper's, scar.

"Did he do this to you?" His cool lips are almost brushing my cheek. "Is that how he got his scent into you? By marking you like an animal?"

My mouth is clamped firmly shut, jaw virtually vibrating with the effort.

"Does he re-bite you often to keep the scent fresh? Where else has he scarred you Bella?"


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 55 Weaknesses**

**BPOV**

The wrongness, there's no other word for it, of having his finger caress my scar fills me with almost physical revulsion and when I can't stand it a moment longer I leap away from him with a cry of anguish. Flinging myself to a stop in the center of the room I whirl to face him and wrap my arms back around my exposed chest.

Which is heaving, somewhat pointlessly, like the heroine's in a bodice ripper.

For a moment I'm not sure which one of us, both blinking rapidly, is more shocked but it's him that recovers first, uncoiling himself from his crouched position on the floor.

Please don't move, please don't move, I'm freaking out here . . . .

He holds his hands out, palms down, in a placating gesture.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly. "I didn't realise it would upset you so much."

Neither did I. Fuck! What the hell was all that about? No, screw that, what the fuck is _any_ of this about? I resist the temptation to hop from foot to foot in agitation, still reeling from the _awful_ feeling of his hand on my neck and just plain filled to capacity with the vampire equivalent of adrenaline. Instinct, the inner beast, is demanding that I do something, anything. Fight or flight . . . .

Neither of which my brain will allow, subtly reminding me that I _can't_ run and I _can't_ fight, in fact I shouldn't attempt anything more complex than keeping quiet and staying out of trouble. My default position . . . .

"Are you alright?" He asks as if sensing I've mentally waved the white flag on our odd standoff.

No fucking thanks to you. Don't _ever_ do that again.

"Bella?"

I shake my head slightly and he sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair.

"I will never bite you." He promises bizarrely.

Damn straight you won't. That was an invitation only event and you aren't _ever_ going to get one. If you _ever_ try to bite me you'd better make sure it's to kill me . . . .

He moves toward me.

"Don't touch me." I hiss, stepping back in an echo of our first meeting.

His expression doesn't change and he doesn't stop, crossing the room and backing me up against the cold fireplace in just a few strides.

"Poor Bella." He almost croons and against my will I find myself craning my neck to look up at him. "You're in such a difficult position right now. Totally at the mercy of a vampire you might very well perceive to be a monster but possibly safe from one you know to be."

His hand moves and I flinch as he very gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I find myself hoping that you have no more reason to regret The Major's death than I will."

Before the trembling can start again he backs away.

"I have things I need to do but I won't be long. Try to relax and make yourself comfortable." He pauses at the door. "And Bella, behave yourself, I _would_ hate to have to hurt you."

As it closes behind him I sink to the floor, bravado draining out of me, curling myself into a ball, eyes trained on the door. Too frightened to try to escape again, too useless for my brain to function on anything more than the most basic level, too dead to even cry.

**JPOV**

Following their trail is child's play, even after they've switched to vehicles, but of course it would be wouldn't it? The point is for me to come, not to lose me somewhere in the north of the continent.

It's fucking torture.

I can feel her through our connection but not her emotions, her wellbeing. From time to time it pulses even more painfully, bad enough at least once to bring me to my knees. Not _knowing_ what's causing it is driving me demented, because there's nothing wrong with my imagination, or my memory. Carlisle's hushed responses to the questions of the others have done nothing to ease my distress, or theirs. I can understand that, what chance of success retrieving Esme when your strongest warrior keeps threatening to fall flat on his face howling like a baby.

I'm not being the nicest vampire on the planet at the moment and I was particularly blunt when I outlined the early stages of the plan. If anyone of them disobeys me or acts on impulse I'll kill them before the enemy gets a chance to. Carlisle soothed the ruffled feathers because we both know he's the one most likely to crack when the time comes. One look at Esme in danger and his cool medical mind is going to go temporarily bye-bye. The fact is I'll probably be right behind him . . . .

_Jesus_.

It's not much of an army but I've done more with less. The rest of the Denali's are on their way, Tanya's stealing a plane but I can't rely on them getting here in time to help. Pete and Char are another matter, they were lurking in the area anyway waiting for me to give them permission to visit, they've backtracked to the house and are following us from there. They should catch up any time now since we've slowed down and are proceeding with caution.

Em's misguided desire for action. Kate's cold rage. Carlisle's desperation, fuelling mine. Rose's unfocussed anger, fuck that woman's aggressive. It's all pouring down on me like the boiling oil I envisioned for my castle . . . .

I need to stay focussed, but it's not getting any easier. I've never had to fight myself this way before and I suspect I could benefit from a really good kick up the ass.

And finally I can feel it approaching, calm determination and extreme reluctance, coming up swiftly from the rear. Pete and Char.

I slow gradually, like a clockwork soldier winding down, the others glancing at me questioningly but too cowed by my behaviour to ask why we've stopped moving.

After a minute they hear the running feet.

"Who?" Rose asks nervously, clutching Em.

"Pete and Char." I growl

Apparently they didn't believe me because they visibly relax when my brother and his mate emerge from the trees and crash to a stop in front of us.

His eyes fix on mine and narrow as he drops Char's hand and looks around at the others.

"The Major an' I need to talk." He growls.

Carlisle nods and ushers the family away.

Char shoots me a look that ought to strike me dead and then follows them into the trees.

As soon as they're out of earshot I sink to my knees with a groan.

"Fuck Jasper." Pete gasps. "What gives?"

My response, which takes up valuable time, has a degree of honesty I wouldn't give to anyone else except Bella.

When I'm done he whistles, shifting his over large Stetson to the back of his head.

"Don't tell Char." He urges. "She's been waitin' years for someone to bring you to your knees."

"I'm sorry . . . ." I begin, only too aware of how little she'll want to be involved in this.

"Don't worry about her. She might resent your ass to hell and back but she'll deal with it because she knows you'll do the same for me, or her, if it came to it."

I nod. I would. As long as it didn't endanger Bella.

"_Mated_ huh? Have you got a thumb print?"

I shake my head, not yet but I can feel one forming, I _want_ to know what it feels like when it's done . . . .

"You got a plan?"

"No."

"Shit Jasper!" Now the hat's off, twirling in his edgy hands. "You get my wife killed and I'll haunt your ass forever."

My chest clenches painfully because for the first time I can appreciate properly what it would cost him to lose Char. And how much worse it's going to be for me if . . . .

"I can't live without her Pete. But if it's going pear shaped I need to know you'll take Char and run."

He studies me for a moment in silence. My brother, the only one who has never given up on me, the only one apart from Bella who has ever dared to pick me up on my behaviour and call me for the asshole I am. The only one who might genuinely mull over my words and then question my sincerity. Who might have the sense to tell me to go fuck myself and then walk away. And as much as I need him right now I couldn't blame him for doing that, not when I'm asking him to put the woman he loves in danger.

I look back at him as calmly as I can considering the conflicted anger I can feel rolling off him.

"You son of a bitch." He huffs eventually, conflict turning to resignation.

"Thank you." I murmur, meaning it from the very depths of my soul.

He gives me a strange look and then shakes his head.

"Do you think he knew, when he took her?"

I shrug. I've been avoiding thinking about the implications, despite the need to plan effectively, because they aren't good . . . .

"Does she know about Theresa?"

"She knows the story, but not that she was Cornell's wife."

"You didn't kill her." He points out and not for the first time.

"Do you think that makes any difference?" I snap. "It wouldn't to me."

"No." He admits. "Nor me."

Silence descends again.

"Alright Major." He drawls eventually, shoving his ludicrous hat back on. "As much I've enjoyed meetin' your inner pussy its time to channel the asshole I know and love, stop grovellin' on the floor an' let's go get your _mate_ back."

**BPOV**

The door blows open and Cornell sweeps in, exuding waves of nervous excitement that I can almost feel in the air. His eyes are glittering, almost like red lanterns in his pale face.

My heart sinks. For all my mental scrabbling I still haven't been able to get a handle on what's going on or work my captor out, though perhaps that's the point, to keep me unstable and guessing? But nevertheless I _know_ I'm afraid of him. Afraid of what he might do to me, terrified of what he might do to Jasper.

"Come now Bella." He chuckles. "The floor is no place for a lady, up you get."

Reluctantly I climb to my feet, protecting my assets with my hands and backing up into the nearest obstruction, the fireplace again.

He follows, placing his hands on the mantle either side of me and using his body to trap me in place so that, once again, I find myself craning my neck to look up at him.

"I've had a very interesting conversation with your Esme." He says quietly, studying my face for a reaction but it's so rigid with fear he doesn't find anything.

"There were so many things I needed to ask her about." He continues softly, inching forward until I'm on the verge of folding myself into the fireplace. "For example I was curious as to why The Major would want to live quietly in someone else's coven. What do you think Bella?"

"Alice . . . ." I wheeze out.

"Yes, that's what she said. Poor Jasper, to lose your mate like that, absolutely terrible. He must have been _devastated_."

He doesn't look sorry, he looks _elated_.

"What do you think she told me about your relationship with our dear and soon to be departed friend?"

Oh shit. Bella, you _need_ to do better than last time . . . .

I shrug.

Big mistake. His right hand whips down, closing around my throat and squeezing it threateningly, instinctively my own hands fly up to grip his forearm.

"When I ask you a question I expect an answer." He growls

I can't answer you, you're crushing my neck . . . .

"I'm not angry with you Bella." He whispers, bending down until the tip of his nose touches mine. "On the contrary I'm largely quite pleased about what she told me, albeit with some _persuasion_."

He smiles.

"Which reminds me, I have another little memento for you."

His free hand delves in his jeans pocket, his wrist brushing the skin of my stomach as he pulls out his grisly gift. Another finger, with a plain gold wedding band.

I shudder in his grasp and his smile widens as he places it on the mantle behind me.

"Where was I?" He almost purrs. "Oh yes. I was _pleased_. Not only am I sure The Major will come for his new _mate_ but the poetry and justice of the fact that I've kidnapped her has made me the hardest I've been for a long time. All in all I'm currently a _very_ happy vampire."

Oh shit.

"As an added bonus I now have something legitimately useful to do with my time while I wait."

Oh shit.

He leans further in, trailing his nose across my cheek and out to my ear, brushing the hair out of the way with his mouth.

"Would you like to divest yourself of the rest of your clothes Bella?" He breathes. "Or would you prefer me to do it for you?"


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 56 The Greek Tragedy**

**JPOV**

We've agreed at sixteen vampires in the group that took Bella, what we don't know is how many more are waiting at their final destination. I won't allow the disparity in numbers to overwhelm me, that's what tactics are for. And that's why we've slowed right down, I need to know how their numbers are deployed in the trap before I can work out how to whittle them down.

In another mile or so I'm going to get the others to stop so that Pete and I can go ahead and scout the area. I can't risk one of the less experienced in our party getting caught and tipping Cornell off that we're here. We're going to need every element of surprise in our favour and I will _not_ risk Bella and Esme being used against us.

To my intense relief I've felt more like my normal self with every mile we've come closer to Bella. And I can feel we are getting closer, an unexpected bonus of our connection, it's almost like I'm being reeled in. In fact for the last couple of hours I haven't need to follow the scent trails and I'm hoping this means Pete and I will be approaching from a direction they're not expecting.

We've almost at the foot of the mountains now and this seems like a good place to stop, we're still a fair way from Bella and a long way from where they crossed into the region after leaving Quebec City.

I slow to a stop and the others gather round me expectantly.

"Pete and I are going ahead to scout the area and count heads."

A couple of understanding nods and a vicious scowl from Char greet my words.

"The last thing we need now is for them to find out we're already here so I need you all to stay put and stay quiet. Char's in charge until we get back, she's got the most experience apart from Kate. If you need to move, stay together, Pete and I will find _you_. If we're not back in four hours go home and wait . . . ."

Em opens his mouth to protest.

"Dead men can't rescue anybody Em if anything happens to Pete and I you need to be prepared to the hard thing in order to protect the others."

He subsides but he doesn't look like he's going to comply, I wouldn't either. The knowledge that if I fuck this up they'll all end up dead weighs heavily on me but it isn't enough to stop me, I need Bella safely back in my arms otherwise _I_ might as well be dead.

"Kate. If you want to hunt again that's fine, you know what you're doing. The rest of you sit the fuck still unless Char tells you to do something, understood?"

When everyone's nodded Pete and I slip away into the trees.

As I suspected we've circled quite a way around before we come across the first traces of vampire and they're spread quite thin, some of us could sneak between them relatively easily. But that's not going to help, as soon as we attack where Bella's being held they can all fall back to join in the fight, what I need is to get rid of the sentries beforehand.

Up ahead we can hear the low murmur of someone talking, into a cell presumably because I can't hear the reply.

"Nope, nothing's happening, even the wildlife's decided there's no danger. My only entertainment is a couple of fornicating rabbits."

A pause.

"Okay, I'll call in again in twenty minutes."

Pete and I creep on. Now we know they're checking in I need to know how many and how often.

It takes us nearly all of the four hours to carefully skirt Cornell's perimeter and head back to the others.

"What do you reckon?" Pete asks as we approach.

"He's not stupid, other than leaving himself thin on this side he's deployed his resources well, he obviously wants to know we're coming rather than catch us on the way in."

"How long do you think we've got to take them out before they realise what's happenin'?"

"Not long enough to get all of them and there's a risk one of our less experienced fighters will get taken down instead, which is why we need to choose carefully which sentries to send them after."

"You're such an asshole." He chuckles and I manage a tight smile.

Bus is coming Carlisle, I hope you're ready.

I'm not an idiot, I know why I'm feeling so aggressive toward him right now, I wonder if he does?

It's one thing to be capable of coldly planning something like this, is it worse to do it even though you know its wrong and its going to hurt people you're supposed to care about? I'll have to ask Bella because I'm not sure my moral compass has got an answer for that. This is the only way I know to bring her back to my side where she belongs, what choice do I have?

I sink inside myself, fine tuning the plan, allowing Pete to explain what's going on to the others. I was a good tactician when I was a human, the vampire mind blows that ability out of the water, the detail you can get into is exquisite . . . .

A searing pain lances through me, forcing me to my knees, hands uselessly clutching at my chest.

"Pete." I snarl through gritted teeth. "Are you still prepared to go in first?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't Jasper." He responds calmly.

_Jesus_. I hope fate is looking the other way and neither of us are truly about to pay for our sins.

"Good because we don't have time to fuck about." The pain has dialled back to a dull roar. "Listen up everyone, this is the plan . . . ."

**BPOV**

Oh no. No, no, no, no, NO!

I'm in complete meltdown, beyond panic, wracked with abject horror . . . .

"No?" He whispers, pressing himself into me so that I actually do fold into the fireplace as I try to move away from him.

I didn't even realise I'd been moaning out loud.

"Who are you to say no to me Bella? Even if you fight me there'll be no escape, do you think I won't have you held down if that's what it takes?"

I pull back even further, magically escaping his clutches and sinking into the hearth with my eyes tight shut, trying to bury myself in the stacked wood waiting there.

Burn me, burn me. I'd rather die.

Oh fucking shit. I don't want to die, I want to be with Jasper, oh god, please, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I hate you, if it's the last thing I do I'll fucking hurt you . . . .

Oh god, _Daddy_, this can't be happening. None of this can be happening, I want to wake up, I want to wake up . . . .

I don't want Jasper to die, there's no point to me anymore without him. I don't want to die, I've had so little time with him, but I can't, I can't, oh god there's no way . . . . Keeping quiet and staying out of trouble wasn't any kind of plan . . . .

Hard hands grip my arms, hauling my rigid body out of the fireplace.

No, no, no . . . . this can't be happening . . . . can't be . . . .

My screams sound like they're coming from a mile away as my wildly flailing body is jammed down into the rug and smothered by his. Nevertheless I fight him so hard I can feel muscles tearing, hot pain flaring through them . . . . I can't even tell if I'm scared or furious, there's a seething mass of screaming _black_ in my head that's threatening to blow the top of it right off . . . .

"Bella . . . . Bella . . . . Bella . . . ."

A voice finally penetrates the maelstrom.

"Bella . . . . stop struggling . . . . god . . . . sorry . . . . hurt yourself . . . . _never_ . . . . _please_ . . . . stop, stop, stop, stop, stop . . . ."

I open my eyes to find Cornell staring down at me, head craned back out of reach of my viciously snapping teeth . . . .

"Stop!" He demands but it takes me a minute or two to comply, for my ragged breathing to calm, for my brain to order my body into stillness, for me to stop screaming and start sobbing brokenly instead.

"Thank god." He breathes, closing his eyes. "Please, Bella, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to . . . . shit . . . . fuck . . . . _rape_ you . . . . I mean I was, but I can't . . . . I won't . . . . I don't . . . . Fuck! I wish I could explain . . . ."

I'm acutely aware of his body resting between my thighs and the fabric of his shirt scraping against my bare skin as I sob. He's so close that he's the only thing I can smell, he smells _clean_ for want of a better word, like soap. His long dark lashes are resting on his cheeks and his face, well, he looks like he's in pain.

"Please." I whimper eventually. "Let me go."

He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

"I can't." He groans. "I wish I'd never taken you but it's done now . . . ."

In a blur he moves us so that I'm cradled on his lap, my head tucked under his chin, his arms wound tightly round me. Rocking us gently. As much as I don't like it fear and instinct keep me locked in place, despite the tremors still rolling through me.

"When I found out you were his mate . . . ." He sighs quietly. "I wanted him dead. But now I know I can make him suffer too, like I have. And I wanted, want to, but I can't go through with it. Not that."

Oh fuck, Jasper, what did you do?

"I should have you believe that he raped and killed her, then perhaps you wouldn't hate me as much, but I can't do that either."

We rock in silence for a while.

"I met Theresa, my mate, my _wife_, a few years after I left Maria. In fact I stole her from another coven who were abusing her." He shudders. "She was everything I would have asked for if I'd known there was anything missing from my life. And I should have stopped then, walked away from it all and found another way to live, but I didn't. We didn't. I don't think it ever even occurred to us.

I was out one night, leading a raid on a rival coven, when The Major and his men attacked our camp. They took her. I followed but he was waiting for me. My raids were damaging Maria's army and distracting her from her main goals. She wanted to negotiate a truce.

It was a trap."

"Maria killed her." I whisper in horror as realisation dawns, I know this story.

"Yes. And your mate and his little friend Peter held me down and made me watch while she did it."

If I were a human I'd be physically sick right now.

"Do you know how Maria killed her?" He asks softly.

I nod, _sick_ to the core. Its one of the things I wish Jasper hadn't told me.

"And do you understand now why I might want to hurt you in order to hurt him?"

"Yes." I mumble.

Only too well.

He stops rocking us and for a brief moment I allow myself to relax against him, offering silent comfort. Conflicted.

I know what happened and I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for Cornell to witness someone he loved being brutalised that way. Just thinking about it makes me shudder, because I'm terrified he's going to make me find out some time in the not too distant future . . . .

I don't understand. How I can revile one and love the other, when they're actually so similar. Someone, at great cost, rescued Jasper from that cycle of death and destruction. No one's done that for Cornell. And sure as shit no one did for Theresa.

God I'm glad he killed Maria. I hope it took a _very_ long time . . . .

And what can I say to defend Jasper, when he knows what he allowed to happen was wrong? How much is Cornell likely to care for Jasper's regret and self-loathing? For the fact that Maria lied to him about her real plan for Theresa and Cornell? For the fact that Jasper knew Maria would kill him, and Pete, if he interfered, and decided to protect his own ass? Or that Jasper and Pete, disgusted, deliberately let him escape before Maria could get to him? Earning them weeks of torture that Jasper _wouldn't_ tell me about . . . .

"Will you do that to me? Will you make me watch you kill the man I love?"

"No." He sighs heavily. "I'll spare you what I can."

"But you'll kill him anyway?"

"Yes, as much as I don't want to hurt you there isn't a choice. When he gets here he's going to tear me limb from limb unless I destroy him first."

In the light of the last couple of hours I think it's perfectly acceptable for me to turn my face into his chest and sob like a baby.

"I'm so _sorry_ Bella." He whispers regretfully, squeezing me gently. "I wish we'd met under different circumstances. I really do."


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 57 Leverage**

**BPOV**

As my sobs subside I find myself strangely calm, lightened somehow by my outpouring of grief, frustration and fear. Left with nothing but a thin veneer of anger and some, probably, wildly misplaced resolve.

I climb out of Cornell's lap and settle cross legged on the rug facing him. The sorrow on his handsome face communicating his acknowledgement that while I might understand his pain, my loyalties lay elsewhere.

We stare at each other in miserable silence, how I've become used to those recently . . . .

There's a thought trail in my head that's screaming at me right now. The one that suspects there must be a way for me to use Cornell's obvious reluctance to hurt me against him. And perhaps I could, if there were time, but there isn't.

Jasper is coming, weird or not, I can feel him. That knowledge is filling me with bubbling elation, but it's easy to hide my reaction because he's coming into a trap, the one Cornell has set to kill him.

I could try I suppose, to reason with Cornell, but I seriously doubt the handful of platitudes I might trot out now would erase all those years of suffering or suddenly give him the overwhelming urge to make peace not war. And besides, I can _feel_ Jasper and I _know_ Jasper, he isn't coming here to talk. Far from it.

I feel like I'm watching a slow motion train wreck, from the privileged position of being tied to the front of the train . . . .

My heavy sigh breaks the silence.

"Are you sure Bella?" Cornell's voice is soft, regretful.

"Am I sure about what?"

"That you can't, that we couldn't . . . ." He passes his hand over his eyes and pushes his hair out of his face. "From what Esme said it doesn't sound like you've been together very long . . . ."

_Wow_.

"Are you asking me if I could forgive you for killing him?"

He nods, managing to look vaguely ashamed. And well he might, under the circumstances.

Even I can tell my answer is critical at this point, but I can't deny Jasper and what he is to me, not even to save my own neck. And anyway I've a feeling, one of those weird certainties, that my forgiveness, or not, is a moot point. I can envisage nothing beyond Jasper ceasing to exist. Nothing at all.

"I take it from your silence that's a no." Cornell drawls, dragging me back to the present.

The one where Jasper is alive, coming closer, his presence growing inside me like a ball of light. His coldly murderous intent making me want to look away from the brightness. But I made a choice, conscious or not, quite some time ago, one that's tied us together now . . . .

Oh god, there's so much to think about all of a sudden, when there's no time to do it . . . .

"_Cornell_." His name feels alien on my tongue. "I don't know how to answer that . . . ."

"Tell me the truth."

The truth? My mind is already forming a number of the potential answers a human might make, along the lines of understanding, the nature of forgiveness, the lack of vengeance and violence in my makeup. Busily shifting aside my anger at Cornell for doing this and the suspicion that my lack of forgiveness could very well extend as far as changing that basic makeup. But deep down in the darkness of my vampire self I can already feel it coming and the real truth is stark and simple, if he kills Jasper he might as well kill me too . . . .

"I don't _love_ you. I _won't_ miss you. I can live without _you_."

He drops his head for a moment, laughing bitterly.

_And_, we're back to the miserable silence.

I may have just signed my own death warrant but I feel inappropriately relaxed about it. Apparently romantic fiction _is _dangerous, who knew . . . .

Footsteps approach down the hall. Jimmy, I recognise his movements and his scent.

A knock at the door.

"Cornell? One of the sentries has missed his check in."

"I'll be right down."

"Yes sir."

Footsteps and scent retreat.

I can almost _feel _the change in Cornell, like someone's flipped a switch and filled him to brimming with electricity.

"I'm sorry." I feel like it needs to be said. And I am. If I were different, circumstances . . . .

"Don't be." He responds calmly, red eyes holding mine. "Somehow I would have been disappointed with anything less."

Oh look, I've a bitter laugh of my own, where did that come from?

"I'll send Jimmy back to guard you, I trust him. And Dedman, one of Donavan's less disgusting associates." He assures me, surging to his feet.

Gee, thanks. I follow his example.

"Cornell! Stop fucking about!" Donovan's coarse voice rattles the window panes.

"I'm really coming to loathe him." Cornell mutters, moving forward and pressing his lips lightly against my forehead. "Goodbye Bella."

And he's gone.

I flit to the open door since the windows and walls are out, I can hear his men gathering at the front of the house, I'm going out the back way . . . .

Look right, look left, the hallway is empty.

Shield down.

I scurry down the corridor, hoping this enormous house has a set of back stairs like you see in the movies.

Carefully I edge round the corner. It has got stairs, thank god.

I hurry forward, taking care to keep my feet on the noise absorbing carpet.

"Hello." Jimmy greets me with a grin as he emerges from the stairwell. "The boss said to come up and make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

Crap.

"After you . . . ." He gestures down the hallway and with a martyred sigh I turn and start back.

"Nice tits by the way." He chuckles.

Oh. I cross my arms over them, I'd forgotten.

Another vampire, round and dark, is waiting for us outside the library. Dedman I presume.

"Good call Jim." He laughs. "In you go darling, there's a nice cosy fire waiting for you."

That can't be good . . . .

"Cornell sends his apologies." Jimmy explains, ushering me inside. "But certain measures are necessary."

I raise my eyebrow.

"For your own protection, and his." He continues, grin widening. "Assume the position."

What position?

"Spread 'em darling." Dedman explains, stretching his arms and legs wide by way of a demonstration. "Jimmy and I won't hurt you unless you struggle or someone forces our hand."

"Please?" Jimmy asks, gesturing to the center of the rug, in front of the hearth. "I was born in the age of chivalry, don't make me do something I'll feel guilty about later . . . ."

…..

And so here I am, suspended in Jimmy and Dedmans' unforgiving grasp, the heat from the fire baking my bare back. Warning me. Giving me the heads up on what's going to happen if Jasper gets too close. A means for Cornell to control this situation and get the outcome he wants, I'm not just bait, I'm leverage.

Surrender or the girl gets it, how very cliché . . . .

And I'm not sorry that if it comes to it that isn't going to work on the Jasper I know, in fact I _hope_ Cornell's act of cold calculation blows up in his conniving face.

Some of my earlier calm and resolve has evaporated, unsurprisingly, but my mind is still fairly clear and at last, way too late, I'm thinking.

Escape is currently impossible, the slightest movements and my muscles start to tear again, but I will be ready if and when the opportunity presents itself. To that end, although my shield is currently up, I'm adding layers to it with grim determination, hoping that a miracle might happen when I need it.

My ears feel like they're out on stalks, straining to hear anything that's going on. Jimmy and Dedman seem edgy too, they're mostly silent but from time to time they'll engage in interested speculation. Some of the group from the yard have gone but I can still hear and smell vampires in and around the house, I've no idea if Cornell's still here.

Jasper is getting closer but I find that I can't think about him directly, it just re-ignites the fear and panic I'm working so hard to contain. Everything Jasper related is being ruthlessly quashed, maybe it even helps that I've had practise at doing that in the past, all I need to remember right now is that when the opportunity presents itself, wherever he is, I can find him. And despite all my thinking that's really my only goal, I _need_ to be with him, and I know now from experience that nothing will be right until I am.

I will not think about what that will mean if he dies . . . . I _will _not.

I've got my eyes closed. The opposite wall and the contents of its book shelves already memorised. And it makes it easier, a little, to be in this position if I don't have to look.

Footsteps are approaching down the hall and my eyes snap open, all of me on full alert.

Jimmy and Dedman perk up immediately.

The door swings open and a blonde vampire enters, closing it softly behind him.

"Howdy." He greets them, unconcerned about the tableaux before him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jimmy growls, pulling at my arm threateningly.

"I'm a friend of Karl's." The newcomer explains. "I'm just here to help. The boss thought an extra pair of hands might be useful. I take it she's a flight risk?"

"Caught her trying to escape twice already." Jimmy confirms, suspicion radiating off him in waves.

"Ah well." The new vampire sighs, hitching his ass up on one of the tables. "You can't trust women, they don't think the way we do."

Dedman snickers and Jimmy relaxes slightly.

I close my eyes again, nothing to see here.

"What's happening?" Dedman asks.

"Nothin' much." Is the response. "The huntin' party's gone out and everyone else is bracin' 'emselves for impact."

Jimmy relaxes a little more.

"I must admit." Dedman observes. "I've never met this Major, or heard much about him until recently, but he does seem to have quite a few people's panties in a twist."

Jimmy and the new vampire laugh.

"He's a vicious bastard." The new guy chuckles.

"Amen to that." Jimmy responds.

"You've met him?" Dedman asks.

"Nah." Jimmy relaxes even more. "But I've heard a lot about him. He's a bit of a local legend down my way."

"Yep." The new guy chuckles again. "It's mighty brave of us to be here right now."

"How come?" Dedman wants to know, I can hear the desire for a diversion and a good story in his voice.

"Well son, I _have_ met him." The new guy sighs and I hear the table creak as he settles himself more comfortably. "An' he's a scary motherfucker. Big as a house. Mind like a steel trap. Strength of ten newborns an' the speed of a jet fighter. Real nasty disposition too . . . ."

Robopire, what I wouldn't give to see him again right now . . . .

Dedman snorts and Jimmy snickers.

"You doubt me?" The new guy asks. "Didn't you ask what you were gettin' yourself involved in?"

"He's only one vampire, you'll have to do better than that to freak _me_ out . . . ." Dedman challenges.

Jimmy laughs in happy anticipation, relaxing completely.

"Alrighty. Gather round and listen close while I tell you a tale or two that'll make your hair curl . . . ."

I've heard it all before, I think.

…..

"He did not?" Dedman gasps.

"He did, punched through that fucker like he was made of marshmallow an' ripped his spine right out."

The mood is in the room is almost jolly but no one's been foolish enough to ease up their grip on me. Unfortunately.

"Ain't you guys scared, even a little?" The new guy asks eventually.

"I don't sleep." Jimmy laughs. "So I can't have nightmares."

"Yep, he's that alright." New guy laughs. "Every vampire's wakin' nightmare. But I mean, we're holdin' his mate, with every intention of throwin' her in the fire. Can you imagine?"

Jimmy shivers. Dedman laughs.

"You spin a good action story, I'll give you that." He drawls. "But Donovan and Cornell have worked this out real well. He's fucked now."

"You reckon?"

My arm vibrates as Dedman nods.

"What are you gonna do when he breaks through that itty bitty little door drippin' venom from his razor sharp teeth?"

Oh how I wish . . . .

"Be the first vampire to shit himself." Jimmy chortles.

"Hey!" Dedman objects.

Laughter all round. Bastards . . . .

"That's brilliant." Jimmy snorts. "But we need to keep focused here. The Major isn't going to get this far but if he does we need to be ready."

"You sure do." The story teller drawls easily. "He's comin' an' you two bozos are holdin' his mate over an open fire."

I open my eyes again to find Jimmy and Dedman exchanging a look.

"What did you say your name was?" Jimmy asks, abruptly back to suspicious.

"I didn't." The blonde vampire unfolds himself to his full height.

"You said you were here to help." Dedman's voice is suddenly accusing.

"I did." The blonde allows, pushing his sleeves up to reveal the chaotic scars on his arms. "But I didn't say I was here to help _you_. Though I'm always prepared to be flexible."

"What the fuck?" My captor's growl in stereo.

And suddenly I'm pulled painfully tight between them, muscles tearing _again_.

A distant scream of immortal pain has us all snapping our attention to the window.

"That'll be The Major." The blonde observes casually. "Are you guys sure you wanna be where you are right now?"

Jimmy and Dedman share another look.

"Seems to me we're holding all the cards." Jimmy growls eventually, giving my arm a savage pull to illustrate his point.

I can't hold the scream of pain in as my newly healed skin rips. Chivalry my ass . . . .

"Yeah, I get that." The blonde says calmly. "But it just _seems_ that way."

We all pause, listening to the 'thunder' outside, a battle underway.

"I'll be honest with you. He's already pissed. Do you really wanna see how pissed he's gonna be when he finds his mate half naked and drippin' venom?"

Another pause, more unearthly screams, the old house is now vibrating . . . .


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 58 The Mysterious Pete**

**BPOV**

"Who the fuck _are_ you?" Jimmy demands hotly, giving me another little tug.

This time the flaring heat in my shoulder produces only a low moan.

The blonde chuckles and I'm almost ready to slap him myself. I'm in pain here, get to the point because as far as I can see you're not _actually_ helping anything . . . .

"I am somethin' in the way of The Major's advance guard." He explains happily. "His acceptable face if you will, the only part of him that's capable of bein' reasonable."

Who _is_ this guy?

"Reasonable?" Dedman almost croaks. If I weren't so scared I'd find that funny . . . .

"It's a relative term I'll grant you, but yes, _reasonable_."

The blonde sighs patiently.

"I'm here for her." He indicates me with a nod of his head. "If you hand her over we'll be on our way an' you can make your own, informed, decisions about what to do next. If it were me I'd run like the wind but I don't expect ya to take all my advice on such short acquaintance . . . ."

There's a sound outside like a sonic boom and the bronchioles in my lungs rattle like a petrified forest.

"We could just toss her on the fire now." Jimmy threatens. Dedman doesn't seem to have much to say at this point but his grip hasn't slackened.

"You could. But it'd be the last thing you ever fuckin' do." The blonde drawls disinterestedly. "I didn't get to be The Major's anythin' by bein' a pussy. See, that's what I mean by it just seemin' like you're holdin' all the cards."

I must admit, I don't know this guy from Adam but he's scaring _me_, he looks absolutely lethal, standing there with his scars exposed, his thick muscles tensed and his eyes a dull flat red. Where did the twinkly eyed story teller go?

"Jimmy?" Dedman asks, trying but failing to hide his concern.

"Fuck!" Jimmy spits out.

"You do have options." The blonde presses, voice getting flatter and flatter. "You could let go of the lady an' give her her clothes back."

Another thundering boom from outside, and another venom curdling scream.

"I hear Peru's really nice this time of year."

"_Jimmy_?" Dedman asks.

"How do I know you won't kill us the minute we release her?" Jimmy wants to know, his grip easing.

I sigh as the pain immediately recedes.

"I'm a lazy motherfucker an' my only job here is the safety of The Major's lady, that's all the guarantee you're gonna get."

The blonde rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers, putting on a display like a WWE wrestler.

"We're runnin' outta time guys." Another inhuman scream, closer, backs up his words and actions. "The Major cometh . . . ."

Silence, but I fancy I can hear their minds ticking over.

"Why don't I make it easy for ya?" The blonde offers, removing his thick shirt to reveal an impressively scarred and muscled chest.

He holds the shirt out and moves forward slowly. Oh thank god, _clothing_ . . . .

Jimmy and Dedman turn away, taking me with them, and the blonde suddenly darts forward into the vacated space, using the shirt and his booted foot to smother the fire.

Jimmy and Dedman spin again to face him, wrenching another moan from me as my other shoulder starts to tear.

"See?" The blonde drawls, unconcerned. "Easy. You rip the lady, I'll eviscerate you an' put her back together again."

"If I shout for help a dozen vampires will be on you in a matter of seconds." Dedman growls after a pregnant pause.

"Yep. But that'll only help The Major by distractin' 'em, it sure as shit won't help _you_, you'll be beyond repair."

"Nobody's that good!" Jimmy snorts.

"Aw an' there we go with the doubtin' again. Come try the ole Petey Pie." The blonde makes a come hither movement with his hands, like some ham actor, but to my intense surprise both Jimmy and Dedman take leave of their senses, letting go of me and leaping for him.

I should run, but fascination holds me in place, this is the mysterious Pete, Jasper's _brother_ . . . .

His arm whips up, grabbing Dedman by the throat and crushing his neck like a pretzel as he slams him neatly and quietly into the fireplace. At the same time his flying foot connects with Jimmy's gentleman's area.

Me, I sink to my knees with my mouth hanging open, just spectating.

Jimmy flies back and lands in the center of the sound muffling rug.

The blonde lets Dedman drop to the floor, his head flopping uselessly like a chicken with its neck wrung, it sounds like a bag of marbles being groped in the school yard, then leaping at Jimmy with both hands outstretched.

Jimmy's already surging to his feet. Which turns out to be a huge mistake as the blonde wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him into his chest and twisting Jimmy's head off with barely a squeak.

He tosses the head to me, and I catch it automatically as he turns back to a rising Dedman.

I glance down, Jimmy's eyes are wide and anguished . . . .

"Fuck you." I hiss, rolling the head away like a bowling ball. Much less disgusted than I would have been a few days ago . . . .

Dedman's head is next, although his is wrenched off with a surprisingly delicate pop, and a small shower of minced vampire flesh which makes a pleasant tinkling noise as it hits the floorboards . . . .

The blonde lays Dedman's torso gently in the hearth, ripping his shirt out from under it like a magician doing the table cloth trick.

It's all happened so quickly. The bodies are twitching and writhing, clearly intent on getting themselves upright, Jimmy's head is moaning quietly . . . . Oh god . . . .

"I know this ain't your thing Bella." The blonde says quietly but forcefully. "But we need to silence 'em asap."

Nodding my reluctant understanding I rise to my feet, girding my loins, to help him dismember their bodies and distribute them around the room.

It's _gross_. They don't fight you exactly but it's nothing like ripping the arms off a department store mannequin, you have to kind of twist bits off and pull to sever the sinews, nerves . . . . Only for Jasper would I ever . . . . Ugh . . . . Shelf, cupboard, window sill. Magazine rack. And I can still hear them slithering, I'm really not cut out for this . . . . It's not exactly a silent activity either . . . .

"Won't someone come?" I whisper, unable to trust in this turn of events after what's happened so far.

"Nah, they were all expectin' a scuffle up here at some point, no one will come less they've a reason to, an' besides they're mostly a way from the house, waitin' for your man to arrive."

"Some of them had higher expectations than I did then." I mutter as I stuff one of Jimmy's creepily convulsing hands into a rather ugly vase. "I'm not much of a fighter."

"Ah don't beat yourself up." My rescuer chuckles, stowing the last body part in the soil of an aspidistra. "We all have our skills. You'd have gotten round to it. Jasper tells me you're much tougher than you look."

I snort and he turns toward me, eyes suddenly softer.

"I'm forgettin' my manners. Bella. I'm Pete, Jasper's brother, pleased to meet ya." He proffers his hand wildly and I shuffle forward to shake it.

"Ah, there you are."

What?

"I don't want to freak you out any more than you have been already my darlin' but I can't see you."

What?

"He never said you were invisible but he did say you were a woman of few words, it'd really help me out right now if you could manage somethin'."

Oh shit. My shield's come down. I should be able to control it better by now . . . . What? Wait . . . . He really can't see me?

"Um?"

"That'll do." He chuckles, eyes zeroing in on me. "Can ya stay like that, it'd be massively useful under the circumstances?"

"I guess so." I mean, I don't feel any different to normal. I've been adding layers to my shield for hours . . . . Shit . . . . He _really_ can't see me?

"Guess so ain't good enough Bella." He informs me, eyes narrowing.

Okay. I feel okay. I can see it now, if I try, like a thick clear veneer over my vision. It doesn't feel like I'm struggling to keep it in place, it feels, it feels _natural_ . . . .

"I've never done this before." I mumble, still not quite able to believe he can't see me.

He waits expectantly.

"I think I can keep it up for a while, the foreseeable future anyway." I offer, hoping it's true.

"You sure?"

I nod.

Oh.

"Yes."

"Okay. I've some other stuff I can do to aid the war effort, startin' with Esme, she's in the same predicament downstairs an' Jasper's concerned Carlisle will flip out an' get us all killed."

She is? Of course, worse. Um? Wait! Scrabbling around I collect her fingers while Pete's eyes track my movements.

"Bella?" He queries, looking mildly freaked out.

"Sorry, do you want these or shall I give them back to her later?" I ask. Jesus, what a question . . . .

"I'll take 'em." He drawls, doing just that. "Can you find Jasper?"

I nod. Oops.

"Yes, I can feel him."

"Good, find him, stick to him like glue. Stay outta the way of any airborne projectiles, no matter what they are. An' if you suddenly reappear, run away, in any direction, we'll find ya later."

"I can't . . . ." I can't just leave everyone to fight for me, be any more useless than I have been already . . . .

"You're not a warrior my darlin', ain't no shame in that. Keep yourself safe, our man can deal with anythin' these fuckers have got planned as long as he knows you're safe."

"Can he?" I whisper, giving in a little to my lurking fears.

"Yes Bella, he _can_, his only weakness now is _you_." He assures me. "An' it's nice to meet ya darlin'."

"Um, you too? And, um, thank you?"

He laughs. As well he might, once again I can't find the words for what I need to say.

"That's what family is for baby. You good to go?"

Am I? Am I actually good for anything right now?

Well fuck, I'm not staying here, Jasper is pulling me. Instinct, impelling me, drawing me, almost irresistible now . . . . I need him, I want him, I can't be away from him any longer . . . .

I nod at Pete. Oh.

"Yes."

"Just remember, they can't see you but they can hear you, smell you an' see anythin' you move. Keep mobile, let 'em struggle to work out where ya are."

I nod.

"Them floating fingers were a bit frightenin', I'll be honest . . . ." He chuckles. "Use what ya got darlin'."

Somehow I manage a snort of laughter. Maybe it's just because Jasper is so close now our connection is throbbing with anticipation rather than pain . . . .

"Okay."

He opens the library door with a chivalrous bow.

"After you Bella."

Nodding I flit through and head for the backstairs as he makes his way down the hall to the main stairwell.

_Jasper_. I can feel him, I know where he is and almost to the second how long it will take me to get to him if I run flat out. I'm _so_ done with finding that weird . . . .

I creep down the stairs into a huge disused kitchen, scenting the air carefully as I ghost across the stone flagged floor.

Through the windows I can see a motley collection of outbuildings ringed by trees, but nothing else. Behind me I can hear the murmur of conversation in the front of the house and I wonder if Pete is repeating his 'meet and greet' routine on Esme's guards. I hope so . . . .

With my shield down I know I need to be extra focussed on what's going on around me. See Jasper, I can learn . . . .

Speaking of which, I have to fight down every instinct I have not to just start running. I don't want to distract him, he seems _busy_ for want of a better word, but I desperately need to be close to him and the compulsion to let him know I'm okay is like a powerful winch being applied to our connection. I think if I relaxed my control it would just pull me to him like I'm floating on a magic carpet . . . .

Focus Bella. You're free, you're safe(ish), you're fucking invisible! Don't screw this up now. _Think_ . . . .

How will I know when I stop being invisible? Apart from the obvious, which may or may not be a bit of a problem if the time comes . . . . Oh hell. I could spend all day standing in this kitchen and not come up with an answer to that. Time to leave.

Since vampires don't feel the cold or fear robbery the back door is wide open and I breeze through it, quietly stepping off the veranda and into the knee high grass. There's a faint rustle as I pass and if someone's looking they must be able to see it move, but no one's looking and after a tense minute I find myself past the outbuildings, all of which seem to have an inattentive vampire in them, and into the tree line.

I long to speed up but I daren't, this is a trap for Jasper so I'm guessing there are plenty of Cornell and Donovan's men between us. I _need_ to find a way through to him without being caught.

A part of me is marvelling at how calm and in control I feel right now. The rest of me is concentrating in a way I can only normally do when Jasper is touching me.

And that's exhilarating . . . .

I am worried though, it's unnaturally quiet, a few minutes ago we could hear and feel the sounds of battle approaching, now there's nothing . . . .


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 59 Set the Fire to the Third Bar**

**BPOV**

Nothing.

The forest is as quiet as the grave. Sounds and scents muffled by the heavy rain now slamming down like well flung stair rods.

And I'm alone. In Canada. Half naked. Afraid. With no idea what's going on.

I have definitely been here before . . . . It's like I finally managed to find the sleep I was desperately seeking only to wake up in despair to find that nothing's actually changed.

But it has, and I haven't been dreaming, I've been _living_.

And by way of a reminder Jasper's pull on me intensifies rapidly, his urgent need trying to twist me inside out like it did in New York. It _hurts_.

Yet here I am still creeping through the sodden underbrush, head attempting to perform a three sixty, nervously keeping tabs on the dank green world around me. I don't want to get caught again, I don't want to be a pawn, leverage, his only weakness. I want . . . .

My insides twist again, harder, almost stopping me in my hesitant tracks. This can't be good, the absence of battle, this terrible feeling. Disregarding Pete's warnings, I give in to my screaming instincts and increase my pace, trusting in the inclement weather to mask my passage.

_Jasper_ . . . .

**JPOV**

The plan was simple.

Pete, a natural born charlatan whose Machiavellian gifts were enhanced by immortality, went ahead to sneak into Cornell's base. His only task to secure Bella and report back. I've been trying not to worry that he hasn't, that's what fuckin' contingency plans are for, but still, there's a lot at stake here . . . .

In the meantime the rest of us split up so we could take out as many of Cornell's forces as possible. Carlisle and Rosalie are coming in the back way as they are our weakest fighters and are less likely to get caught out there. Kate and Em are moving up the left flank to take out as many sentries as they can and Char and I are doing the same on the right.

Once we met up we were to incapacitate anything that moved that wasn't Bella, Pete or Esme. It's not rocket science, its war . . . .

I wasn't expecting all of us to make it that far . . . . and I fuckin' hate being right sometimes.

Char and I were carrying out a well-practised relay on Cornell's defensive line, you take one, I pass by to take the next. Intending to keep it up until we reached the house or something changed.

But we fell foul of the check-in, I'd accepted one of our groups probably would, I was just praying it wouldn't be us. No one was listening to my prayers, there's a certain _inevitability_ about that doesn't surprise me. Char's shout of warning stopped me dead in my tracks, spinning me round and sending back toward her, as all hell broke loose.

My natural habitat, _hell _. . . .

A vampire fight isn't exactly quiet and the loss of the element of surprise pisses me off so much I don't spare a thought for the moral implications of what I'm doing. If it don't smell friendly it's in serious trouble. As quick as we disable someone a new vampire joins the fray, our only advantage being they're arriving in dribs and drabs, relatively easy so far for the two of us to cope with, as we move the fight inexorably toward the house. The noise should draw some friendlies too . . . .

Plan and re-plan, second guess the status of the others, the implications . . . .

Someone lands on my back, weight tipping me forward into the forest floor. I get my hands underneath me, flipping us over so that I land on top of him, ramming my elbows back at the same time. His sternum snaps, not enough, I roll forward to my feet, taking him with me like a spider monkey, and spin as fast as I can. Still gasping from the impact of the broken breast bone on his breathing he lets go, taking my shirt with him as he spins away like a top, crashing into Char and knocking her on her face.

Fuckin' shit . . . .

I've only taken one step toward her when the sudden change gets all my attention . . . . we're surrounded.

I stop dead in my tracks, planning and re-planning . . . .

Char throws my assailant off, surging to her feet and spinning to lock eyes with me, one of these day's she's gonna fuckin' kill me . . . .

We can do this . . . . I gesture Char right, preparing to launch myself the other way . . . .

"Hold Major!" A familiar voice commands. "You know I have your mate . . . ."

No, brother, I don't . . . .

". . . . and I've also got Peter . . . ."

Shit!

A dark pit opens underneath me, not that anyone would know . . . . _Bella_ . . . .

"Your rescue attempt has failed."

I straighten and turn toward him.

"Cornell."

He smiles as he glides in through the trees. And well he might, he's waited long enough for this. The emotions pouring off him are rich and complex, triumph, vengeance, anticipation . . . .

I can smell Bella's, _my_, scent on him. And the tang of her venom. And I can feel her, her fear, she's so close . . . .

Masking my reaction is still child's play but the beast inside me is swelling with impotent rage, so much so that I have to take a deep breath to expand my chest and make room for it . . . .

"Where is she?" I ask, my voice sounds flat even to me.

"Close." He chuckles darkly. "I rather like her, it was difficult to tear myself away . . . ."

Do. Not. Snarl.

"She's nothing like I would have imagined for you." He continues conversationally as he comes to a stop a safe distance away from me, the rest of his men drawing in with him. "So innocent. So soft and forgiving. Such a _shame_ . . . ."

"What do you want?"

"I want to feel _better _Jasper, can't you tell?"

There's nothing I can say to that.

"Impassive as ever." He laughs. "I know what it feels like to lose your mate . . . ."

No, you don't, I know you loved Theresa but this it _completely_ different. So much better a revenge than you could ever have imagined, not that I'll give you the satisfaction of knowing until it's too late.

". . . . but as I said I'm a little fond of her already, so beautiful, so brave . . . ."

God, _Bella_, I'm so sorry . . . .

"And so perhaps I'm prepared to make a deal."

I arch an eyebrow, not easy to do when I'm ready to fall to my knees and beg for her life and well-being. Or explode and take anyone I can reach with me . . . .

"Submit to my will _brother_ and I'll spare her, and you, the fate Maria lavished on Theresa."

Oh god, _love_ . . . . _never_ . . . .

"Peter?"

"Will have to make his own deal, I assume it's his mate with you?"

My head turns to Charlotte. The fact that I know she understands doesn't make her pain any easier to bear . . . .

Bella, my love, my _mate_, is so close. I want to see her, hear her, smell her, touch her. Wrap her securely in my arms and never let her go. But there is no security in my arms right now, Cornell has her and it doesn't seem like he'll hesitate to use and abuse her to get what he wants. I've failed the accumulated tests of my life and the price is going to be so much higher than I ever thought I could pay, than I can stand . . . .

I trust him, I think, enough that if I can safely exchange my life for hers.

The pain of failure that rips through me is so intense I have to close my eyes as two of Cornell's men force me to my knees, spreading my arms wide. Feet immediately stamp down on the back of my legs, seeking to hold me in place.

Even so my mind is still planning, re-planning, if he makes so much as one tiny little mistake . . . .

"I'm sorry . . . ." I didn't even know I was going to speak, never mind who I'm addressing. The list is so long . . . .

**BPOV**

I can smell them now, up ahead, vampires. Cornell. And Jasper.

Automatically I slow.

I'm afraid of what I'll find, Jasper's need feels like it's much more than I'm likely to be able to satisfy . . . .

Cautiously I creep to the edge of the glade, hiding pointlessly behind the mossy trunk of a tree, worst nightmare coming true before my eyes.

Oh god, I stumble to my knees, sinking into the mud like a stone.

_Jasper_ . . . . How? I'd somehow convinced myself . . . . Pete's confidence . . . . My asshole, my protector . . . . He shouldn't be like this, it isn't right . . . . He's _mine_, and I don't want this . . . . No, no, no, no, no!

Frustrated anger pings me to my feet like a puppet on a string.

Use what you've got Pete said. I've got nothing, I'm a small and insignificant blip on the hide of the world . . . .

"Don't push your sincerity at me." Cornell snaps, stopping his obsessive pacing and coming to a stop directly in front of Jasper. "I'm well past caring. You took my life from me, think yourself lucky I'm prepared to only take yours in exchange."

He laughs suddenly, kicking out at Jasper's head, booted toe connecting with his chin and whipping his head back with a stomach wrenching thunk. Jasper's head flops forward again, almost boneless, hanging down, blonde hair hiding his face from my view . . . . I need to see him, I want to see his eyes . . . .

Why? Why is he letting this happen? Why isn't he fighting back?

Without thinking my fists beat at the tree trunk which shudders under my blows.

"I haven't hurt her too much yet." Cornell muses as he begins pacing again. "Nor have I let Donovan. Should I do you think? Now you've surrendered should I renege on my word? Wouldn't that be beautiful in its way?"

Jasper's growl drowns out my own weak effort.

Around the clearing everyone is on alert, including the diminutive blonde who looks as outraged and pained about this turn of events as I am, is that Charlotte, Pete's wife?

Wait. They haven't noticed me . . . .

Cornell is taunting Jasper again, threatening to use me against him, but he can't, he doesn't have me, I'm free. I'm here . . . .

Realisation dawns. I'm Jasper's weakness, he thinks Cornell's still got me, leverage . . . .

Cornell seems intent on re-telling his painful history . . . .

Pete said I'm invisible but I'm not. I recall my sessions with Eleazar. He thought as it got stronger my shield would be able to deflect people's attention away even if they were focussed on me and it did . . . . Pete had already seen me, talked to me, before my shield came down when the fight broke out . . . . Eleazar said it was a survival trait and it makes sense now, it might make me less aware of what's going on around me but what does that matter if nobody knows I'm there?

With a surge of confidence I accept that I'm the unobservable entity, the often ignored background to other people's lives. It doesn't matter if I leave footprints in the mud or ruffle the undergrowth as I pass, because no one will be expecting me to be there and nobody will notice.

I only need Jasper to know I'm here.

But how? It seems risky to assume the status quo will last if I actually speak out loud.

Cornell is still walking and talking. I guess he's been saving it up for a while . . . .

To my horror, without further thought, I find myself sneaking past him and kneeling down in front of Jasper.

He breathes in deeply but his head is still hanging down.

So I scooch forward, fitting myself easily underneath his slumped body and concealing curtain of silky hair. His ridiculously girlie, long eyelashes, are resting passively on his pale cheeks and so I do what comes naturally, craning my neck and pressing my lips against his.

I daren't lift my shield Jasper, but I love you.

His eyes fly open.


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 60 Priorities**

**BPOV**

His eyes are deep black pools, reflecting my face back at me.

I press my hands to his cheeks and slip my tongue between his lips, caressing them with it, sighing into his mouth as it opens in surprise.

Deliberately putting everything else out of my mind I kiss him with passionate restraint, pouring everything I have into it.

His eyes widen and I pull back to look at him.

I can't bear to lose you . . . .

'Bella?' He mouths.

I press my mouth back against his, softly.

He closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them again, a small smile playing at his lips, his need changing, the _awful_ intensity of it diminishing.

Cornell is now busy barking instructions at his men and into his cell.

'Left.' His mouth forms the word carefully, eyes sliding that way.

I peer through his hair.

Does he mean what I think he means? Has he seen that guy? Inwardly I sigh, he needs a distraction to get free otherwise he's no better off than he was before, and if they injure him . . . . I squirm backward, regaining my feet and circling behind the bald headed giant restraining Jasper on the left, not remotely mollified by the fact that the one on the right is even bigger.

What should I do I wonder, sizing him up, tap him on his slab like shoulder and squeak boo at him?

He's wearing track pants.

Oh.

Wouldn't you at least think about letting go of anything you were holding if they fell down suddenly? I would.

So does Baldy. Big mistake.

"RUN!" Jasper roars at Char as he surges to his feet, spinning his body and slamming the guy still holding him into Baldy with a thundering boom that shakes the earth beneath our feet. The two of them go down, every vampire in sight converging on Jasper who hurdles over the closest one like a pro and starts after Char, one arm stretched back, palm upraised.

No instruction required, I flit between the vampires already giving chase and place my hand in his, which closes securely around it. My unpredictable body surprises me by with flushing with warmth and breaking into a stupid grin.

"Are you alright?" He asks urgently as we sprint forward, pursuers only a few yards behind.

"I am now."

"You stay right next to me." He growls harshly, squeezing my hand for emphasis. "Don't you _ever_ fuckin' leave me again."

He entwines our fingers and I nod, already on that page.

There's no time to talk, ask questions, or understand anything, as we fly through the drenched forest with Char's swaying ice blonde hair pulling us along, Cornell and his men pushing from behind.

Although we don't need breath to run or talk neither of us have any words at this point. What would I ask? Where are we going, does it actually matter with a dozen or so vampires right behind us, _away_ seems good enough for now. Are we in trouble? Even I can work that one out.

I'm afraid to give into my desire to look at him while we run, convinced that the old human klutz will make an appearance to ensure a swift end to our escape attempt. How does this work? Although we seem to be gradually reeling Char in, this chase could go on for ever, none of us will get tired or slow down, no obstruction will stop us.

Even with Jasper's calming influence I'm all over the place, denied an outlet for the thoughts and feelings nipping at each other's heels in my head. I'm relieved. I'm afraid. And I'm _angry_, though I can't seem to get a grip on exactly who or what with.

Running beside me Jasper's hand tightens around mine from time to time, I assume as he processes his own thoughts and feelings.

I feel like something is happening to me, something I should recognise, but I can't get a grip on that either . . . .

We're already catching up with Char, who turns to check that it _is_ Jasper who's following her, visibly relaxing when she sees him. And we're gradually turning left, pulling slightly ahead of our pursuers.

Are we very slowly getting away? It doesn't seem credible . . . .

We're level with Char now.

"Remember Reno?" Jasper murmurs suddenly.

"Oh yes." Char snaps accusingly. "I'm claustrophobic."

"That mansion, way out here in the middle of nowhere. Aren't there mines here too?" Jasper presses.

What?

"You are _such_ an asshole." She drawls quietly in response.

"Can you find one?"

With a low snarl Char turns us further left, almost heading back the way we've come.

"Brace yourselves." She mutters after a minute and the ground literally falls away beneath our feet.

How I don't scream in terror I'll never know, as we plummet through the earth with a comet trail of rock, soil and vegetation.

"Sorry." Jasper chuckles as he shoves us clear of the falling debris.

Choking and scrambling to my feet I crash into Char's rigid back. Amazed at how I can suddenly barely see, there's almost no light down here, just weak tendrils from the mess behind us . . . .

"We need to go sweetheart." Jasper murmurs with surprising gentleness, reaching around me to squeeze her shoulder.

"Okay." She sighs, suddenly breaking into a dead run.

Automatically, and propelled by Jasper, I follow her.

It's like a theme park ride. There's no drop off in the normal speed of our run, but we're dodging cairns of rocks, whipping through dangling tree roots, sidestepping roof collapses, surfing through dank pools and skidding on wet rock. The scents are _indescribable_. I _never_ want to do this again. The near total absence of light renders me almost blind, getting worse as we speed away from our entrance point, ahead of me Char is gradually slowing as she struggles with the same problem. Our reactions have to be lightning fast to avoid the obstacles. But it's working, it's a full minute before I can hear the sound of digging behind us and another before thudding, careful, feet echo down the shaft. Bringing more light with them . . . .

It is disorientating though, for the first time since my change I honestly don't know which direction I'm travelling in, can barely register if I'm going up or down, it would freak me out if Jasper's body wasn't pressed into mine, urging me forward.

Char hesitates at a fork in the tunnel.

"Where Jasper, Pete or the others?" She asks softly.

"The others." He replies. "We'll need numbers to end this."

Growling Char leads us right, and down, I think. The obstructions growing worse, thank god our stone bodies can plough straight through them.

"We have to get out." Jasper urges. "They're gettin' the hang of it, our lead is being eroded."

In front of me Char nods, twisting abruptly into a side tunnel I wouldn't have even noticed, shouldering her way through the rock which crumbles around us.

And just when I start to wonder if we'll be trapped, running around down here like rats in barrel forever, the shaft slants abruptly and definitely upwards and Char suddenly takes a flying leap, punching her way through into daylight. And rain.

We scramble through after her, Char collapsing on the wet ground as Jasper collapses the hole behind us.

Me, I just watch, a vaguely familiar pattern of deep even breaths stealing over me.

Done, Jasper hesitates, staring down at Char, his own breathing altering to match mine.

She looks back at him calmly.

"I know your thinkin' about takin' your imaginary girlfriend and running." She drawls. "But we both know you're not _asshole_ enough for that. So stop pretendin' and let's find the others an' go get my mate back."

"_Bella_ . . . ." His voice is quiet and strained, eyes unable to locate me.

I know what he's asking, what he wants, even with my shield down I can sense the complexity ofit. The simple desire to scoop me up and start running. The intellectual need to end any threat these vampires might be to us in the future. The urge for violence and vengeance. The horror of turning his back on people he cares about.

But what is it I _want_?

I haven't had nearly enough time with him, never could. Cornell wants him dead in the worst possible way.

Will I _risk_ him like this?

Pete saved my life. If I were in Char's shoes it would destroy me to know someone wouldn't help the man I love.

But he's _mine_. Not Char's, not Pete's. Not_ Cornell's_.

_Mine_.

I wanted every drop of everything he had to give, and I got it.

And now I realise_ I_ have to decide what to do with it.

_Jesus_. I can't make decisions like this, I'm a fucking _child_ . . . .

"_Bella_?" He asks again.

And I want to cry. Because I don't have a choice. I want to run, I really do. Selfish. Protective. But I could never do that to him, make him less than he can be to protect myself, or him. I _love_ him. Apparently so much that I'm prepared to let him risk his life to prove why.

I must be fucking nuts, it goes against every raging instinct . . . .

"Bella, _love_ . . . ." He chokes out.

I step forward, I was never that far from him, and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.

"I love you." I whisper as his arms slip round me, creaking my ribs with their strength. "Whatever we need to do . . . ."

"Jasper . . . ." Char warns.

"We have to go." He decides, releasing me and wafting his open hand expectantly.

I take it.

Char surges to her feet.

And we're running again.

And I'm angry.

And scared.

Now cognizant with what's going on. My human sensibilities are shutting down . . . . One at a time . . . . Like lights going off in an office block at the end of the day . . . . Soon there will only be Jasper . . . . The instincts he provokes . . . . And the need to act on them . . . .

Thought trails in my head are desperately trying to shake life into the ideals I've been clinging onto but I turn away from them. Instead I revel in the power of my limbs as they propel me easily over the terrain. Soak up the scents around me. Letting myself go in a way I've deliberately never allowed to happen before.

It isn't long before we're crossing the scent trails of other vampires. Some I know, some I don't.

Jasper slows us, nostrils flaring, mind almost audibly whirring . . . .

The sound of thunder, stone body on stone body, reaches us. Vibrating the ground under our feet.

And suddenly we're charging forward again, full pelt, bursting through the trees and into the thick of a fight.

Jasper releases my hand, pushing me behind him as he charges the first non-friendly he sees. Scything his legs out from under him before moving onto the next. Char is his wing man, ripping the head off the downed vampire before he can even think about getting up.

Tucked behind Jasper's body I'm able to take in all the action.

We seem to have arrived just in time to turn the tide of a battle.

Carlisle is evenly matched with his opponent, trading blows which only seem to be maintaining the status quo.

Rosalie and Em are fighting together, back to back, but nevertheless in the same position.

Only Kate is making any headway, anyone who touches her goes down like a sack of potatoes, for a while. Some she can finish off, others she has to leave as a recovering victim hurls themself at her.

My only real focus is Jasper. Where he goes I'll follow, he's the only thing I care about . . . .

Jasper and Char cut their way through the enemy effortlessly, like ballet dancers. There's a corrupt beauty to it I recognise from before.

Kate shocks the last enemy standing and he staggers, not quite going down, moving toward her again. I recognise him, Gravelly Voice. About to meet 'the harbinger of death' he was so worried about, the one streaking across the open ground to aid a clearly weakening Kate.

So silent that Gravelly Voice doesn't even hear him coming as he reels back from another of her shocks.

Before he can leap forward again Jasper's arms lock around his chest, pinning him and cracking several of his ribs with a sound like corn popping.

"You have the dubious honour of being the last one left capable of being questioned." He drawls into Gravelly Voice's ear, breaking another rib for emphasis. "And I can smell my mate's scent on you, so you'd better fuckin' start talking."

The Cullens are oblivious, sharing a group hug of relief to still be in one piece, inspecting each other's injuries.

"We're bein' followed." Char observes calmly to no one in particular. "We don't have much time."

Immediately she sets to work collecting the body parts into one pile, Kate and I joining her. No one seems to notice me, although Char clearly knows I'm around.

I feel compelled to keep checking on Jasper, which means I don't miss much of the whimpering, snarling and metallic shrieking . . . . Those arms I fit into so neatly, the big hands which so gently explore my body, the teeth that sensuously nip my flesh. They're capable of terrible, _terrible_ things . . . .

And with my new hyper sensitivity to Jasper's well-being I can't currently come up with a reason why this would be a bad thing.

We finish making our hillock of slithering parts at the same time as Jasper adorns the top of it with Gravelly Voice, grabbing a scrap of cloth and igniting it with a zippo from his pocket. Not a flicker of emotion on his face as he lets it float gently onto the top, stepping back before the _whump_ of igniting venom can take his eyebrows off.

There's a high pitched keening sound which I know I will never forget, nor will I ever ask if it was super-heated venom escaping or mortal pain.

"Carlisle." Jasper commands, holding out his hand, which I dart forward and latch onto. "If you want Esme back we have to go. Now."

"Jasper, what's happening?" He asks, hurrying toward us with Rose and Em on his heels.

"Explanations on the way." Jasper responds flatly, turning and leading us north at another dead run.


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 61 White Water Rapids**

**BPOV**

Running.

But not away this time.

Jasper was very succinct in his assessment of the situation and there hasn't even been time for more than the most obvious of questions, never mind the myriad other things that need to be said right now.

And I'm still second guessing this course of action when we start to pass scattered vampire parts.

Gravelly Voice told Jasper there was tension in the ranks and Cornell was expecting Donovan to turn on him once The Major was despatched. But Jasper thinks, we're hoping, that Donovan's men turned on Cornell early, the fight, the thunder near the house that definitely _wasn't_ Jasper attacking.

We need to take advantage of it quickly before Cornell realises what's happening.

Go in hard and fast, Jasper says, use the element of surprise to secure Esme and Pete. A show of force and confidence . . . .

He makes it sound so easy, like there aren't so many other possibilities and variables. Cornell told us Pete had been captured back at the house, how did he know that, who told him, what if Donovan's attempt at a coup failed . . . .

We should just go, Jasper and I, while we still have the chance.

Because it's almost too late . . . .

And then vampire scented smoke is oiling its way through the trees and slanting rain.

And then we're hurdling over felled and shattered trunks, breaking through into the open ground surrounding the house.

A phalanx of vampires is waiting for us as we screech to a halt, the others leaving Jasper slightly in the lead.

Off to the right of the overgrown yard a fire is raging.

Directly ahead of us, a line of more than a dozen vampires, with Donovan in the center. Smirking.

"Hello Major." He chuckles. "Remember me?"

Jasper snorts in derision and I suppose it _is_ a stupid question.

"And of course you know my friend?" Donovan jerks his head and two vampires emerge from the end of the line with Cornell hanging quietly between them, oozing venom from numerous small injuries.

By my side Jasper smiles, a cold hard smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"He's done half our job for us." He murmurs, but only Char and Kate nodding in understanding.

"He's mine." Kate growls quietly, feet pawing at the ground like a bull.

Jasper nods.

The situation is surreal, like we're all in suspended animation, eyeing each other across the abused grass. Waiting for something to set something off . . . .

"I assume this is what you've come for." Donovan drawls, nodding back toward the house.

Within moments Pete is dragged unceremoniously from the entryway, strung out helplessly between two vampires, but otherwise appearing no worse for wear.

Nevertheless, on the other side of Jasper, Char snarls.

Another vampire emerges from the house, carrying a limp Esme in his arms. I can smell her venom, see every torn thread of her ruined clothing, her limbs still healing onto her body.

"Esme!" Carlisle cries, breaking the line and the spell, charging forward.

Cursing Jasper drops my hand and leaps after him.

And as I leap after Jasper everything descends into chaos.

Carlisle dodges the first vampire who rushes him, intent on reaching his wife.

Pete uses the distraction to execute a Jasper style escape manoeuvre on his captors.

And off to the right, Cornell does the same, twisting and striking like a cobra.

Rose and Em suddenly come alive and head after Carlisle.

Char goes for Pete.

And with a keening cry that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end Kate joins the fray.

My self-imposed mission to stay with Jasper and help him if I can, runs into trouble immediately as the vampire taking a flying leap at Rose crashes unexpectedly into me instead. I manage to stay on my feet, just, but in the confusion I've lost Jasper.

Shit.

The fear and panic that have been my constant companions over the last few days explode to the surface like lava from a volcano.

All around me fights have broken out. The noise is deafening. I don't know what to do . . . .

This must be the reality of war. Not the little groups of men being pushed deliberately around a diorama in strict turns that one of Renee's boyfriends used to enjoy. And it must be the reason for Jasper's harsh, apparently ignored, instructions on the way here. Because once it starts, no matter how it starts, it's fucking chaos . . . .

Kate is heading for Donovan, dodging everyone else like a fly with a visual on the sugar cube.

Char has made it to Pete, or he to her, the distinction doesn't matter. They're taking on all comers together.

Rose and Em haven't made it to Esme. They've been split. Both fighting individual battles to survive.

Carlisle hasn't made it to her either. He's battling two opponents. Surprisingly well. Or unsurprisingly well motivated.

And all around this, vampires I don't know are fighting vampires I don't know.

The noise, I can't seem to get past the noise. Shouts. Screams. Curses. Orders and exhortations. Metallic screeching. Sonic booms. Collapsing buildings . . . .

Just who the hell is fighting who . . . . There are no vests . . . . In soccer we used to at least get colored vests . . . .

And there's no Jasper. My one and only role in this . . . .

Another vampire, thrown expertly like a bowling ball, crashes into me and this time I do go down. Pushing the confused man off me and rolling away to the side. For a moment he hesitates, prone on the ground, trying to work out what the hell just happened. Then he starts to get up and without thinking I aim a hefty kick at his midriff, unexpectedly sending him sailing through the air and crashing, thankfully, into a flailing group of vampires I don't know.

And I still don't know where Jasper is . . . .

There seem to be a lot more vampires here, way more than I counted when we arrived, or is that just my startled mind struggling to process what's going on around it?

Another high keening war cry rings out and I whip around, but now I can't even locate Kate in all this confusion.

The side of the house collapses, heaving and shuddering as vampires continue to fight beneath the rubble.

Stay hidden, stay out of trouble, don't worry about me. Those were Jasper's only instructions for me. But every instinct is screaming at me to find him . . . .

Everything is happening so fast.

The fight, battle, whatever, which started off as individuals coming together, is gaining a life of its own, sucking vampires into its mass like a black hole.

Rose and Em have been drawn in, Carlisle too.

Still desperately looking for Jasper I whirl around, Kate is fighting her way to Donovan and she isn't alone, there's another blonde vampire working with her. Who . . . .

A thundering crash has me whipping to face the other way.

Pete and Char are just emerging from the wreckage of the house and incredibly he's _laughing_ . . . .

Suddenly the fight breaks over me like a tsunami and I go down instantly, crying out in surprise as I'm trampled underfoot. The tumult of noise is completely deafening, amplified in what has become an uncomfortably tight space. Being unobservable is no protection here. Flying feet thud painfully into my unseen body, owners losing their balance and crashing to join me on the ground and in no time at all I'm on the bottom of a brawling mass of hissing, biting vampires.

This is _insane_ . . . .

But mercifully brief, as the momentum of the fight rolls all the way over, leaving me gasping in its wake.

Surging to my feet I realise I've lost track of _everyone_ . . . .

The noise is assaulting my ears, the scents my nose, the sights my brain.

And I'm well into the realms of panic, isolated in the midst of a raging war and as alone as I've ever been . . . .

I always the thought the response to blind panic would be fight or flight. And I can feel them both warring inside me for dominance. But they're fighting a losing battle. Jasper _is_ here, somewhere, and I won't be going anywhere without him.

Jasper. All my fears about us, him, have become increasingly pointless. Whatever is going on between us . . . .

I leap to the side as a couple of furiously skirmishing vampires rampage past me.

. . . . whatever it is, what we've just been through, it no longer feels weird, it's . . . .

The sounds are changing, there are more metallic screeches, more screams of incredible pain. The flames of the fire are dancing higher as vanquished foes are fed to it, almost casually, in passing. This is serious, people are dying!

Jasper, I need him, like I used to need to breathe.

Where is he? I only had one _fucking_ thing I needed to do. Useless, _useless_ . . . .

And then I hear him.

"CORNELL!" It's a commanding bellow that demands obedience. "Don't run from me!"

Whirling I spot Cornell first, on the edge of the trees, turning back and searching uneasily for the source of the exhortation.

There!

Head and shoulders above most of the chaos, seemingly oblivious to it, black hard eyes trained on his brother.

Without thinking I tuck my elbows in and sprint through the thick of the fight, cannoning off vampires like a pinball.

For a moment I think Cornell's going to cut and run as he hesitates on the tree line but then his head comes up and his eyes focus in on Jasper. If looks could kill I'm not sure which one of them would hit the ground first.

So close now, I can smell the forest after rain even over the acrid stench of spilt venom and the nearby fire, I long to let him know I'm here but I'm afraid to distract him as Cornell strides back toward us. He stops about ten feet away and the two of them start circling each other, like there isn't carnage going on around them.

"I've lost your mate." Cornell observes, sounding almost apologetic.

"I know." Jasper responds.

"Is she safe?"

"No thanks to you."

They circle in silence for a while.

"So you killed my mate and now you're going to kill me." Cornell drawls.

"I didn't kill your mate. Maria did. And yes, I _am_ going to kill you."

"Does Bella know what you really are?" Cornell throws back.

"She knows." Abruptly Jasper changes the direction of the circle, Cornell shadowing him warily.

"Do you think I could live with myself if I let you and she go off and have the happily ever after I've been denied?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that anymore."

"What should I be worrying about?" Cornell asks softly.

"Nothin'." Jasper breathes, flying forward so suddenly Cornell takes a step back, totally unprepared as Jasper crashes into him, attempting to fasten his hands around his neck.

Momentum carries them both to the ground, rolling and snarling. Cornell manages to dislodge Jasper's grip, getting his legs up to push him violently away.

And they're both on their feet again, circling . . . .

This time Cornell attacks and I gasp as his powerful kick rocks Jasper back on his heels but before Cornell's foot is back on the ground Jasper has lunged forward, delivering a blow to his ribs. The sharp crack of solidified bone breaking makes me wince and Cornell staggers back two steps.

Jasper's on him again, with two swift punches to Cornell's head and a kick some way below the belt.

Cornell drops to his knees but as Jasper advances on him he flips up, gripping him around the waist and sinking his teeth into his abdomen.

With a hiss of pain Jasper pulls back, too strong for Cornell to hold, knee coming up to connect with his jaw.

Cornell arcs backward, landing heavily, the air whooshing out of his lungs.

And Jasper's on him in an instant, trapping him in place, venom dripping onto his face.

And there's another surreal pause as they stare silently into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry." Jasper growls eventually, shaking Cornell by the shoulders for emphasis. "If I could have my time again I would have stopped what she did to Theresa, I swear it."

"I believe you." Cornell rasps. "But that doesn't mean I forgive you. Little brother."

"And it doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you." Jasper responds softly, rearing back and preparing to strike as running feet descend on us.

Both our heads whip around as three of Cornell's men throw themselves at him, ripping him away from Cornell and pummelling him into the ground.

"JASPER!" My scream cuts through the din and I hurl myself forward, landing on someone's back.

More shouts, more bodies thudding into us. Fingers like claws scrape down my spine, ripping my skin, it burns . . . .

Jasper roars in pain as his arm separates from his shoulder.

And the vampire beneath me roars too as I sink my teeth into his neck, clamping them together like a fighting dog and whipping my head back. Torn flesh hits the back of my throat and I swallow it reflexively. Disgusting. But he's still in this, holding Jasper down. I dart forward again and this time I feel my teeth close around bone, snapping through it. He goes limp immediately and I pull back, dragging him off Jasper who immediately tries to get to his feet.

But two vampires are still on him, ripping into him with teeth and hands.

Vaguely aware of a struggle going on around us I throw myself onto the biggest, plunging my teeth into his exposed neck without a second thought, knowing this time what I'm aiming for . . . .

Fighting for his life he turns away from Jasper, hands reaching back in an attempt to tear chunks out of me instead. But there's no way on god's earth I'm letting go as I lock my arms around his chest. We roll away from the others, and I wrap my legs around him too, burrowing my teeth further into his flesh, desperate to be done with him and get back to Jasper . . .

Flipping us over he crushes me into the ground, snarling viciously and stabbing backward with his elbows, but I'm too small a target. And too weak to flip us back. All I can do is hang on and chomp down . . . . Ugh . . . .

Abruptly he's pulled away from me, leaving a chunk of flesh in my mouth that I manage to spit out this time.

I've barely time to register the intense, determined face revealed above me as I roll away to my feet, twisting and blurring back to Jasper.

He's still down, a savage fight raging around him, and he's struggling to get up, injured, _hurt_ . . . .

And I'm not the only one heading for him through the melee.

Cornell.

No! No, no, no. He's mine!

Faster than I knew I could move I slam to a stop between them, flinging my shield up.

"BELLA, _NO_!" Jasper howls in anguish as I materialise above him.

For the briefest of moments the grieving _man_ I met in the library returns to Cornell's flat black eyes.

And then he's gone again, consumed by the vengeful vampire.

And I brace myself for impact.


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 62 Deep Dark Pool**

**JPOV**

My heart is going to explode. Suddenly there is nothing left to say or do. No apology to offer, no plea to submit, no valiant action that will prevent the fates extracting vengeance for my crimes from an innocent victim. I've struggled with such terror since she was taken, _known_ it would come to this . . . .

He's going to kill her, obliterate her . . . . what's she _doing_ . . . .

Desperation has a new meaning as I strive with everything I have to get to her . . . .

"BELLA, _NO_!"

The last of my breath, the last of my everything.

I've no arms to pull her clear but as my legs close around hers, jerking her sideways Pete blurs into view, using his speed and strength to shove Cornell, screaming, into the fire.

Time slows down.

Bella's body twists and falls.

Flames engulf Cornell, his eyes meeting mine for the final time.

My real _brother_ emits a scream of his own as his momentum carries him toward the same fate.

And Charlotte, in determined silence, slams into him, crushing him face first into the mud, just short of immolation.

His ridiculous hat cartwheels off his head and bounces merrily into the flames.

Shit!

Holy. Fuckin'. Shit.

My chest tries to drag in a breath but it's not happening, my lungs aren't working . . . .

Bella's body crashes into mine, her own breath forced out with a whoosh.

We stare at each other.

And time speeds up again.

Empathy is a gift and a curse. In battle it's a competitive edge, if you can separate it from the negative emotions. But when the battle is coming to an end it gets harder and harder to do that. Not everyone can win, not everyone survives. Even when you know what to expect it can drown you in a deep, dark, pool.

The fight's almost over and I'm not sure if I can credit the win to the timely arrival of the Denalis or Donovan's rank stupidity. But we were still lucky. Cornell, cunning to the end, had kept some forces in reserve, just in case.

Lucky.

How the fuck did that happen? How did I let it come down to such an ephemeral concept, how did I so nearly lose?

Ouch!

_Jesus_, I'll never get used to how much this hurts, I'm on fire . . . .

Bella's shifted, covering my body with hers, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her tiny form wracked with silent sobs. I'd put my arms around her to comfort her, but I don't know where the fuck they are. Oh if I only had the breath for a bitter laugh . . . .

Above us the rain's stopped and the clouds are clearing. Even the weather can be metaphorical it seems.

I let my head fall sideways. Pete's taken charge, organising the others to mop up the vampires still moving and add them to the pyre. There are a few I haven't seen yet. No Carlisle. No Esme, Rose or Carmen. I can't distinguish them by their emotions either, everything here is still such a fucked up mess . . . .

The soldier in me wants a situation report, are there enemies unaccounted for, what's the threat level?

It will have to wait because I still can't breathe to ask.

And the pain's getting worse, my wounds are starting to knit together and my body is screaming out for its missing parts, for the blood to regenerate me.

Still sobbing Bella leans away from me and I've no way to express how much I need her to stay right now . . . .

But she's only retrieving my limbs, instinctively knowing what to do as she presses them in place and drapes herself over me to keep them there. Oh love, I thought I was going to lose you, I couldn't bear it . . . .

Ouch, fuck!

My body arches involuntarily as the tendons and muscles come in contact with each other, it stings like a motherfucker. Bella shifts her position automatically so my limbs aren't dislodged, whimpering as she buries her face in my neck again.

Another two minutes and seventeen seconds of agony later she releases her hold on me and I carefully slide my arms around her, she sighs, and I would too, if I could. This is getting real old, real fast. Heal already!

Her sobs are slowly subsiding. I've noticed before how our breathing sometimes synchronises but it dawns on me now, as my own chest stirs itself weakly into action, that it's hers that mine mirrors. There's so much I need to say to her, explain, discuss, apologise for. I wanted her to know me, love me for who I am, past and all. But I never wanted to subject her to it. Hell in the blink of a vampire eye she's met the man I probably wronged most, been subjected to his wrath . . . . Jesus, I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with what he might have done to her . . . . seen me torch half a dozen vampires without a second thought and watched me tear a swathe through anything that moves to kill a man who had every reasonable right to want _me_ dead. I wish I'd thought to ask Carlisle if I could be un-mated . . . .

That feeling of terror doesn't seem to have completely left me, it's just found a new source to feed on, or rather a new twist to the same issue. Fear of losing Bella.

The tiny sweet smelling human I drained has now become the essential key to my existence. And if that's not natural justice in operation I don't know what is.

God I sound like an old man.

And I fuckin' feel like one. The pain has dialled back to a dull ache.

But with the slow healing, and the cessation of hostilities, mentally at least I'm starting to feel like my normal self.

I can feel everyone. And I do mean everyone. The relief is palpable. I might have been prepared to sacrifice them all for Bella. Alright, there was no 'might' about it, but its lifted a weight I didn't know I was carrying to realise that it didn't come to that. Though I think it may be a while before Carlisle can forgive me.

Consequences. That's a concept I've understood and accepted my whole life. Both of them. I've never shied away from it, there are always consequences and they need to be borne like a man.

However, selfish in extremis, the only consequences I care about at the moment are the ones that impact on Bella.

I can _feel_ her now. In two ways, like stereo. A subconscious part of me has stayed aware of the part of us that's connected. It's primal, like a cave painting. She's alive, she isn't badly hurt, she's running on instinct. But my gift can feel her now too and she's a hair away from freaking out, fighting hard to supress her emotions under the veil of her vampiric nature. And I only know this because she's taken the trouble to lift both her shields so I can feel her. Jesus, I love her so much . . . . and I can feel _her_ love, burning through the maelstrom like a bright flame . . . .

"_Bella_."

Tearing my ruined shirt away she bends her head to the torn skin on my neck, soft tongue licking at it, venom helping to seal it. Despite the sting it's wonderful, more soothing than I could have imagined as her venom mixes with mine, pulling the flesh together. I've seen it done, done it for her, but no one has ever . . . . not for me, not like this . . . .

My eyes close as she slowly and deliberately works her way down my abused body, pushing the remnants of my shirt away as she works her magic on my shoulders, my arms, my chest, my abdomen. Changing the dull ache to a warm, almost pleasant buzz. I feel loved, cared for, _owned_ . . . .

Owned?

Her tongue distracts me, working purposefully down the long gash in my side and on around my hip bone, down the 'V' of my muscle that leads to . . . .

Shit. My eyes snap open as she unbuttons my fly to continue her ministrations and my burgeoning erection springs free.

"Bella, I'm sorry, I can't control . . . ."

"Shush." She chides me softly, returning her attention to my healing wound. "It's okay."

I try to relax again but it's hard. Literally. My mate's face is buried in my groin, her soft cheek rubbing against me, and I'm just a man . . . .

I close my eyes again. Russian tanks, specifications thereof, usually guaranteed to soften the most ardent moment. There are more important things . . . .

I gasp as she plants a kiss on me.

Oh fuck . . . .

"Bella, _please_ . . . ."

Her tongue trails around my tip.

"Bella, the others, you don't . . . ."

Jesus! She takes my tip into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it, audibly savouring the moisture already waiting there.

"Bella, _ungh_ . . . ."

Pop! I'm released and I groan. Mixed messages . . . .

"Bella." That's better, my voice is stronger, more controlled. "We're not alone, you don't want to . . . ."

Her teeth scrape gently along my shaft, from tip to base and then back on the other side. We've been here before when her instincts have been in charge, but I don't know if I have the strength to resist her this time . . . . Russian tanks, Russian tanks, Russian tanks . . . .

"Bella . . . . _please_ . . . ."

Her warm wet mouth plunges down on me and I'm done with objections . . . . my mate . . . . my love . . . .

**BPOV**

He's mine. The others genuinely don't mean anything to me. I've cared nothing for their safety in all this and so I've nothing to spare for their sensibilities now, let them look away.

I love the way he tastes, the way he feels.

Love the soft words and sounds that pour from his lips, telling me how much he loves me, describing how I'm making him feel.

And I don't care if anyone hears because those words are mine too.

_Mine_.

His scent is filling my head, blinding me to everything else. We're alive, he's alive, nothing else matters.

I love the way his big hands fist reflexively into anything they can reach to avoid hurting me, the damage he did to that mattress in New York . . . .

Love the way the muscles of his thighs and abdomen flutter uncontrollably under my roving finger tips.

And I love the way they stretch taut, arching his back and wrenching a cry from his lips as he cums.

This is all the beauty and power that is Jasper, coming undone, just for me. I don't have the words to describe how that makes me feel, or how much I _needed_ it right now.


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 63 Justifiable Procrastination**

**BPOV**

Finally we are free of the aftermath.

It wasn't pleasant. And right now Jasper is content to let me just run it all off.

We've stopped twice to hunt but I haven't been able to make myself linger over it. In fact despite the dry heat in my throat I wouldn't have bothered if Jasper hadn't needed it to finish healing his wounds.

There's a scowl on my face and a nagging, Grandma Swan style, voice in my head warning me it'll be permanent if I don't quit it. But I'm not ready yet.

I am _annoyed_.

I don't know why I'm heading where I'm heading. Jasper asked me if I was ready to go home and this was the only place I could think of. Since we're apparently unwelcome in Casa Cullen at the moment.

Alright, that's not fair. But its how I feel.

There are several reasons.

One is Donovan, or more precisely, Kate. He was the only one who wasn't dead when Jasper and I roused ourselves from our self-absorbed stupor. Kate was torturing him, it was pretty gross, but considering what he'd done to her and subsequently Esme I scared the crap out of myself by being unable to be horrified by it. Shocked yes, but horrified, no. Maybe I was channelling my inner AJ, maybe I'd already been pushed about as far as I could be pushed, or maybe it was just simply that the only friend I've ever known had been abused and _needed_ her payback.

Yeah, I felt her _need_, but let's not go there yet.

The others were divided into two camps. Pete, Char and Tanya were acting as bodyguards and everyone else was trying to get her to stop. He _was _screaming rather loudly. And for a moment, as Jasper surveyed my recently covered torso, I was afraid he was going to call dibs.

In the end Jasper put an end to it by _ending_ Donovan.

Which brought about my second issue with his _family_.

Now, I'm new to all this, but I can't understand how you can claim to love someone and not accept them for who and what they are. Leaving out everything else, when we arrived they were all railing against Kate's vicious actions, but suddenly, when Jasper put a stop to Donovan's suffering, he became the devil incarnate. I know I'm little more than a kid, but this does not compute.

Kate might not have been happy about it, nor Tanya, who still scares me, but they accepted it. Pete and Char certainly looked like they understood. The reaction of the others was totally uncalled for considering they'd helped pick up everyone else on the battlefield and then fed them into the fires.

Ugh! And Jasper just accepted it, like he deserved it. That really burns me up.

And Rose.

I can get past her comments about our inappropriate _intimate_ moment because, frankly, I don't give a shit.

But everything else she said was such bullshit she can go fuck herself.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Jasper squeezes my hand. My shields are up, as per his request, but I bet he's regretting it now.

I know he isn't perfect.

A snort of wry laughter and another hand squeeze.

But I haven't known him for the decades she has. Is she that fucking unobservant she didn't realise what she was living with? Did she absorb the details of his past and assume they were some kind of metaphor? Did she think he'd react to a situation like this by knitting us all sweaters? Does she seriously think this is all some conspiracy between he and Cornell to abuse Esme for some form of personal amusement? Doesn't she know anything about him at all? Does she think his 'touchy feely' side would have rescued Esme before it was too late? Does she not get that because he is what he is we're all here now to bitch about the experience and learn to deal with the aftermath? And does she not understand that that's only because I _allowed_ it?

Did she want me to punch her teeth so far down her throat she'd have to shove the toothbrush up her ass to clean them?

I didn't. But only because Jasper is much stronger than me and wouldn't let me. Yeah, yeah, scary un Bella like behaviour, I put it down to the life altering experience of the last few days . . . .

There's something else there I haven't thought about yet. 'Don't provoke Bella.' Carlisle had said. 'She's protecting her _mate_.'

Anyway.

The upshot is that no one stepped in to defend Jasper and he wasn't surprised. That smarts. No, scratch that, that makes me furious. Worse than that, it was felt that _Rose_ needed time to come to terms with had happened . . . . and perhaps Jasper and I should 'stay away' for a while.

In fairness Esme wasn't best pleased and Kate and Tanya nearly went into 'fight' mode over it but Carlisle clearly just wanted to get his wife home to care for her in the calmest environment he could muster.

And Jasper _understood_ it. And so did I, in fairness.

But it hurt him, I know it did. And so it hurts me.

Tanya invited us to Denali before they all left. And we'll go, eventually.

Saying goodbye to Pete and Char was different. I could _feel _the love in the air.

"You're a cunt." Char whispered, kissing Jasper's cheek and wrapping her arms around his waist before stepping away abruptly with a nod to me.

"Sorry about my wife." Pete chuckled, hugging me. "She's a long memory and a faulty forgiveness gene."

"Um."

"Bells, next time I meet ya I expect Jasper to have taught ya how to talk properly."

I was still laughing when Pete and Jasper grabbed elbow in their own form of a hug.

"Thank you." Jasper's voice was unexpectedly congested.

"Ah, bro, don't project on me, it makes me nauseous."

"_Thank you_."

"Okay, okay. You remember the 'fridge guy'?"

Jasper and I both nodded.

"Make it a really capacious icebox bro, I owe him big time . . . ."

Okay, so it wasn't all bad . . . .

…

"This was your territory." He gasps in surprise as he catches the weathered yet tenacious traces of my scent.

I nod. I suppose it was. I'd no idea what I was doing when I ran the boundaries but I guess a vampire's instincts are quite strong, whether they know they're one or not. And this was the best I could come up with when he asked me if I was ready to go home.

I've the urge now, to run the boundary, but first I want to show him my favourite place so I offer him my hand, smiling when he takes it without question.

My human 'shroud' is drizzling back onto me like salad dressing, an oily little drop with every stride we've taken to get here, but it isn't all the way back yet and there are things I want before my stupid brain gets a chance to make its presence known.

It's a short climb but the view is spectacular.

The last time I was here I was naked, refracting the light around like a disco ball. And I was thinking about what to do about whatever my life had become.

Well. I'm here with what my life _has_ become. And I don't need someone stood next to me on this rock thrusting a lion cub at the sun to understand the significance.

There are many things I don't currently know how to deal with but Jasper, the man I love, isn't one of them.

And I need him to understand it, before the talk he so desperately wants us to have, fears us having. Before my brain starts to worry at the weird way I _know_ and _feel_ that.

"_Bella_ . . . ." The need in his voice perfectly matches the _need_ inside me and I find myself marvelling again at his muscular forearms as they close around my body and pull me back against his chest.

…..

We've been together such a short time I hadn't appreciated the possibilities. How do you ever stop when you don't need to take a human moment, eat, breathe, recover or sleep?

You don't, to be honest. It was sinful, blissful, perfect, procrastination of epic proportions and I lost myself in him completely.

Even here, actually in the forest after rain, his scent is all consuming. Aromatherapy. The complete essential oil. Evocative of all the good things. Love. Safety. Belonging. Happiness.

His skin, like silk, the scars like natural flubs, sliding over his coiled muscles. Sliding under my fingers, slipping over mine.

His body. Always surrounding mine. Covering me. Protecting me. Pleasuring me. Filling me. Worshipping me. Owning me.

His soft lips leaving warm trails wherever they pass. Tasting me. Moistening my impervious skin. Setting my nerve endings screaming or soothing me into an almost catlike repose.

His kisses, touches and body communicating as eloquently as our connection how much he loves me.

I've almost forgotten what the staccato movements of a vampire feel like, so long has it felt like my body moves only at the apparently languid pace of lovers.

"JASPER!" I scream as another wave of unadulterated ecstasy rolls through me, dissolving my petrified bones and rendering me liquid.

After a pause to gather his own wits he chuckles, lips vibrating against my highly sensitised skin as he wends his way up from my breasts to my face, adoring me with every butterfly kiss, until he finally coils himself around me like a python, turning us on our sides and burying his face in my neck.

Days have passed. Our clothes and the few possessions we brought here with us are a scattered and distant memory.

That feeling I get when he strokes my scar, it's all through me now, like being constantly bathed in warm water. I feel complete for the first time, well, ever really. It's such an amazing feeling, I can't believe I was able to live without it for so long.

"We can't stay like this forever." He whispers into my neck.

Really? We're vampires, other than needing to hunt every once in a while I can't see why not.

"We shouldn't stay like this forever." He amends with amusement in his voice, easily reading my emotions.

"Why not?" I ask, shimmying down through his arms so that we are facing each other but still pressed close. I hate the thought of being even an inch away from him at the moment.

"That's a perfectly valid question." He muses, rubbing his nose against mine.

I thought so.

"And I'll admit I'm struggling to find a particularly pressing reason right now." He adds, pausing to nibble at my lips. "But I think this constitutes 'running and hiding' and we _can't_ do that forever."

No. I suppose not. And I am, we are, I suppose. There are things I probably should be thinking about, but don't want to. Things we should be talking about, but which I can't face yet, like his family. I can feel his understanding washing over me and I realise its time to give a little back, to woman up and speak my real feelings, after all he isn't going to laugh at me is he? Those old fears seem so absurd now but even so it's very hard to open my mouth and utter the first word, after a lifetime of keeping it to myself

"So much has happened." My voice is quiet, but finally there. "And yet in reality I've only just realised that I l-love you and how much. New York was perfect and then this, _that_, whatever. I was so scared, Jasper, scared that I'd lose you. I couldn't bear it, there wouldn't have been . . . ."

Words fail me, how can I describe it to him, how would he react to my realisation that I couldn't live without him, already . . . .

". . . . I want to be selfish, I want to enjoy this, us, for a while without worrying about anything else. I don't want to think about any of it now. And I know I'm being selfish because I can feel there's something that you desperately want to talk to me about. But Jasper . . . . you nearly died. I nearly died. But in theory we're immortal. Do we really need to worry about it all now? Can't we just enjoy the fact that we're here, together? Just us?"

Wow. That's probably one of the longest and most revealing speeches I've ever made. And even though I know it's foolish I hitch in a 'human' breath.

"I love you." He says with complete conviction, dark gold eyes boring into mine. "And yes, I think we can afford a little time out for me to show you exactly how much."

I giggle as he rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him.

God he's beautiful, it almost hurts to look at him sometimes.

I rest my hands on his powerful chest and throw my head back as he slides into me. His want melding with mine and starting a fresh liquefaction process.

Procrastination, thy name is King . . . .

**A/N I am sorry this has taken so long, I've had the worst writer's block, hopefully I'm over it now but I think reviews would definitely help, even if you only give me a mental slap and tell me to pull myself together . . . **


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 64 This is His Body, This is His Love**

**BPOV**

For another thirty one hours, twelve minutes and forty five seconds there was only us.

And then there was thirst.

You can't ignore it, no matter how much you want to, and I really, really do at this point.

"We can hunt together." He murmurs reassuringly, kissing the back of the hand I now have absently rubbing my throat.

"I don't want to move." I protest.

"Neither do I, but we're both thirsty, why be in pain if we don't have to?"

"Humph."

"Come on." He urges, flipping to his feet and towering over me in all his naked glory.

Really that's _no_ incentive to move _whatsoever_, I pat the springy grass beside me but he laughs. Spurned I let him pull me to my feet, grumbling under my breath but with venom pooling in my mouth at the thought of a nice juicy deer . . . .

"Ladies first." He chuckles, gesturing down the mountain.

I hesitate.

"Go for it." He insists. "I'll hang back and watch the view while you run."

"Perv." I giggle.

"I prefer the term Connoisseur." He responds haughtily.

Laughing I pull my hand out of his, thinking of other ways I can enjoy this hunt but I've barely taken a handful of strides when I'm abruptly stopped and jerked back by the unprecedented shortness of the elastic connecting us. Literally flying backwards I would have landed on my ass if he hadn't darted forward to catch me.

"Jasper?"

"Are you okay?" He gasps, turning me in his arms and crushing me to his chest.

"Yes, I'm fine. That was . . . ."

"The worst ever." He concludes. "Bella, we really need to talk . . . ."

I scooch my head up to look at him.

"Alright." I sigh. "Hunt then talk."

It was actually easier than I expected considering that if we took more than a step or two away from each other it was like treading on discarded gum, an irresistible force dragging us back together. I'm not sure what was scaring me more. The fact it hurt to be parted from him physically, or the fact that I couldn't really find it in me to care. I didn't want to be away from him, why should it matter than I can't be? Of course my brain, bless it, was going haywire.

Unnatural, weird, wrong it was screaming.

Right, the instinct in me insisted. Gloating when we take down our first meal and feed from it together, either side of the neck, staring into each other's eyes. My brain was appalled that I can stand for it, both the vampire part that wants to protect its kill and the human bit that can't understand how this can be either comforting or sexy. I could feel the counter pull as he drew on the blood at the same time as me, it was like an echo of when our bodies move together.

Skin slipping against skin. Heat and liquid. I'm not sure which one of us moved first but I'm not complaining as he crushes me into the rocks and ravishes me to within an inch of my undead life. All of me, mind, body and soul. This _is_ right. This is the amalgamation of the weird I've so recently been fighting and my love for him. Burning away the conflict, fusing together the strands of acceptance that began when I thought I was going to lose him, shredding the last of my human doubts.

And as I lay there, spent and content in his arms, he fills me in on his conversation, a lifetime ago now it seems, with Carlisle.

Mates. Soul Mates. Bound together forever. How can I not be happy about that? It's more than I would ever have thought to ask for and I'm quiet for an age, absorbing it and mapping out against everything that's been happening.

It explains a lot. The pain and discomfort when we're apart. The fact that I'd never get dressed or peel my body away from his if I didn't have to. Being able to feel him, like a physical and mental shadow of my own self. The homing beacon that pulled me unerringly toward him as soon as I was free. My unnaturally calm acceptance that there is no longer a me without him.

But there are so many questions. Just how tightly are we bound, can we really not get more than a few feet away from each other before it starts to hurt? Is that temporary, because we were separated, or is it an on-going process? And what about Kate, how could I feel Kate's need back at the house? Was I channelling Jasper's gift? Is that part of it? What else will change, I already smell like him to other males, is my voice going to get deeper, will I develop ginormous feet and an unhealthy obsession with cowboy hats?

And what about the possessive stuff? I was pretty useless during the fight until Jasper was threatened, yet I was ready to rip Rose's throat out over mere _words_, words that hurt Jasper maybe, but hardly a serious threat and I know he'd have walked away and left all of them to it if it was what I wanted, even though it isn't in his nature.

'Bella is protecting her mate.' Carlisle was right. I would do anything to keep Jasper safe and happy, even keep him away from the disapprobation of his family. And he'll _let_ me . . . .

I haven't asked him how and he hasn't told me but suddenly the last few pieces click into place and my eyes go wide, the hand that was stroking his chest stilling, cold prickling my skin. I did this. I didn't want to lose him, I was in love with him even then. I _forced_ him? Oh my god, I'm some sort of vampire _rapist_?

"No, no, no." He's saying, arms tightening around me before I can leap to my feet. "Bella, I know what you're thinking, I went through the same thing. It isn't like that . . . ."

"Jasper, I . . . . I never meant to, I didn't know . . . . I was _scared_ . . . ."

Instinctively I gather my courage and heave myself up to look into his eyes. He doesn't look angry. He doesn't feel angry, on the contrary he's buffeting me with love and reassurance. Stolen, all of it. Oh my god, he's going to _hate_ me . . . .

"Bella, tell me what you remember." His voice is calm and strong, eyes holding mine as his fingers find their way through my hair to caress my scar. _His_ scar.

Oh. Caught. Ashamed and afraid I bury my head in his neck, grateful that he lets me. I should have told him at the time, I shouldn't have lied about not remembering anything. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Damn Grandma Swan.

"I didn't know what I was doing."

Alright, enough with the excuses. You love him, you need to own up.

"I don't really remember it properly."

True. My mind wasn't in control, the beast was, it _knew_ what was happening.

"You kissed me and pulled away. I was scared. I was going to leave you to go to New York. But I wanted to stay with you, I wanted you to want me to."

I was terrified I was going to lose him.

"I knew, I don't know how, that if I ran you'd chase me."

I don't know how I knew, did I _know_ you wanted to stay with me too?

"You did. You caught me."

You were magnificent. I wanted you so much.

"You, um, you . . . . ripped all my clothes off."

I can feel a burst of primal lust from him, echoing my own.

"I needed you to take me. I wanted it. I, um, er, I wiggled my ass in your face."

Did he just stifle a laugh? No, he can't have done, this isn't funny.

"I was desperate for you to bite me."

And how.

"And when you did I was pleased. No, scratch that, I was _ecstatic_."

There aren't words for it really, that shadowy feeling of euphoria and triumph.

"And then, nothing. The next thing I remember was trying to work out what had happened and realising you'd bitten me."

Done with my confession I curl into myself as best as I can in his remorseless grip.

"You weren't best pleased." He observes.

"I'm sorry. Jasper, I'm so sorry about all of it . . . ."

"After Carlisle had told me we'd mated I thought I'd done exactly what you did and I felt exactly the same guilt. I loved you and I wanted you to love me, I didn't want to force it on you. But when he told me only a female vampire could choose to mate I freaked out, wounded male pride I suppose."

"Ja . . . ." He crushes me further into his chest, cutting my words off.

"Let me finish."

Okay, I nod weakly, kissing his delicious skin in case it's the last chance I get. I love you Jasper, I love you . . . .

"I killed a few trees. But then I realised that I didn't care. I was already in love with you. If you'd simply asked me to be your mate I'd have said yes. Its instinctive Carlisle said. You offered and I accepted. Because that's what I wanted. I wanted to belong to you, I wanted you to be mine. And I bit you so that everyone would know it."

Completely inappropriately I grin into his chest. Mates for life. Like swans.

"Are you smiling?" He asks.

"No."

That would be totally insensitive.

"You are. I can _feel_ it."

"Don't you mind?" I whisper, grin dissolving.

"Bella. I love you. As far as I'm concerned this is the benediction of the fates. Like you said, I can't influence their decisions, only deal with them, in this case revel in them. I may not deserve this, I may not ever deserve it, but I'll take it and cherish it with everything I have. My only regret is that I don't remember it."

Wow. He can reduce me to mush without using his body, who knew?

"I _hate_ that you don't think you deserve to be happy." I huff.

"Bella, I would have sacrificed my family, both of them, to save you. They were nothing but pawns to me. Manoeuvres on the strategic chess board. I never expected half of them to make it as far as the house."

"I didn't even think about them." I admit. "Not even poor Esme. I only cared, care, about you."

He is silent for a long time and then he sighs.

"I never wanted you to see me like that." His voice is low and unsure.

And I'm not having that.

"Jasper. I love you. I can't pick and choose which bits, it doesn't work that way. It's not like it came as a shock, you've been nothing but honest with me." I hesitate before ploughing on. "And besides, I'd rather you sacrificed a thousand people than yourself, I don't think I'd survive without you. I guess that makes me as bad a person as you think you are."

"Bella . . . ."

"No. I can feel you remember? I know that's not how you want to be. Not who you really are. But it's there and it keeps you alive. That's all I care about. I love that you want to do the right thing. And I'm going to learn to balance it against your knowing what needs to be done sometimes."

"Not letting me completely off the hook, huh?" He drawls.

"I reserve the right to be judgemental in your own best interests." I answer, hauling myself back up to look into his eyes.

"Under the thumb." He mutters nonsensically, but I can feel the elation radiating off him.

We stare at each other for a while.

"I'm glad I killed you."

Whoa!

Randomly I wonder how Miss Elizabeth Bennett would feel about such a declaration. But the truth is I stopped caring about the fact that he ended my old life a long time ago and if he hadn't I wouldn't be here now would I? I don't know if I lack the imagination to regret what my life could have been or if it's simply that being with Jasper is so right there just isn't any point thinking about it. Like waking up a vampire, life it was it is and you have to get on with it. And of all the things fate could have handed me an eternity mated to Jasper has got to mean that someone somewhere was smiling at me when I lost control of that old truck on that wet road.

"I'm glad you killed me too."

He's got such a beautiful smile and when you can feel his joy and happiness too, I can't describe the euphoria of it.

"_Ask me_." He purrs, tightening his arms around me.

Ask him? Ask him what?

Oh.

"You want to do it again?" I gasp in surprise.

"_Oh yes_."

My grin is back. I like that idea. I like it a lot.

He releases me and I ping to my feet watching appreciatively as he slowly gets to his, the show off.

I drink him in lasciviously, from his perfect toes to the blonde hair framing his gorgeous face, and all the wonderful _muscular_ bits in between.

"Jasper, will you be my mate?"

"Yes Bella, I will be your mate, for all of eternity."

We gaze at each other with soppy grins on our faces for a moment and then his face turns serious, predatory even.

"This would be the bit where you start running." He reminds me, winking.

Eek . . . .

**The End**

**A/N My head's stopped ringing from all the slapping now, so thank you very much, it was most effective. If I didn't manage to thank you all personally, please know that my little old brain was rattling away like a pinball for a while there! Epilogue up soon . . .**


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Epilogue**

**JPOV**

This sucks. Might as well torture my sorry ass.

Oh no, wait, they _are _torturing my sorry ass.

"How long?" I growl.

"Sixty seconds since the last time you asked." Kate replies flippantly from the bottom of the tree. "She's only gone shopping with Esme. How hard can it be?"

Very hard, she has no idea, the Russian witch.

"Can I at least have my cell back?"

"No. You'll only text her and that will defeat the object of the exercise."

"You know, I could just take it from you." I point out.

"You _could_." She allows, so unconcerned that she doesn't even bother looking up at me from her book. "But your _mate_ might have a word or two to say on the matter."

Humph. Funny how everyone's trotting that line out these days. _Not_.

It's taken us quite a while to get here, Bella and me.

I was more than happy, gross understatement, to just let go of _everything_ and spend time with her in British Columbia. Despite my confessional diarrhoea previously, and with her general verbal reticence, there was so much we talked about, told each other. I didn't press our re-integration into polite society as much as I maybe should have done, even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

She was still really pissed with the Cullens at the time.

I am older than her. I understood their reactions better. But I couldn't, wouldn't, deny to her that they hurt.

So when she finally developed a hankering for civilisation we tidied ourselves up as best we could and went wandering again, the same way we did when we were falling in love. I suppose we needed it in a way. She even made me work from time to time though she no longer cared about 'wasting money' on the best accommodation with the biggest beds. Not that we always rested our heads that way. Her bivouac building skills have improved considerably.

Anyway. With civilisation came the cell phone charger. And hundreds of missed calls and texts from Rose. I wasn't surprised. Rose has always been the freak out in haste, repent at leisure, type. And family is important to her. Even me.

There were also calls from Esme, physically healed at least from her ordeal, and wanting us to come _home_. Kate, wanting to be sure Bella was okay and still intending to visit Denali. Pete, reminding us about the refrigerator. Em complaining he was bored. Carlisle dispassionately filling us in on all the detailed news and compassionately reminding me that he loves me and regards me as his son.

Bella read and listened to them all. Cogitated on them for a few months, then decided we were going to Maine. Because she didn't want to keep me from my family with her own issues. Kate decided to come too, for moral support. Like me she's older than Bella. _We_ both knew Bella and I couldn't just waltz back and pick up where we left off before Cornell happened. No matter how much you want to make things right there ain't a magic spell for it. It's hard and it's painful.

We stayed two weeks. No one died.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been but it was awkward and sobering. It's a testament to Bella's strength that she withdrew us, took a month to realign herself and then made us come back. For me. She really _is_ a loner and it wasn't her natural instinct, even without the issues we have as a family. Her claiming me becomes more amazing and precious by the second, it goes against her every instinct.

Carlisle and Eleazar were predictably orgasmic over the sharing of our gifts.

She's doing much better with mine than I am with hers. She can't manipulate people's emotions yet but I'm sure she'll get there. For the most part she can already feel them but she's having to learn to tell the difference between theirs and hers, the same way I did. I _hate_ that she has to go through that but I'll freely admit to being amused by some of the consequences. Horny Em? Horny Bella. Annoyed Rose, annoyed Bella. Dominant Jasper, _very_ dominant Bella . . . .

Me on the other hand, I can feel her shields but I'll be damned if I can do anything with them. It's like trying to learn a new language or smart phone, it ought to work the way I think it does, but it doesn't. This entertains her enormously.

I love it when she laughs. I am one unfairly lucky son of a bitch.

Unfair.

I'm used to taking responsibility for my actions, accepting the consequences, wherever you stand on the whole 'family under the bus thing', I did hold Cornell down while Maria tortured, raped and killed his wife. He'd every right to hate me.

And nothing will ever un-make my monstrous past.

But I do feel like I'm being given a chance at a new future. Falling in love with Bella, however reluctantly, is like starting a third life, Carlisle's likened it to finally getting the chance to grow into the young man I might have become if Maria hadn't ended my first try.

I'm a man with responsibilities now as he's constantly pointing out.

It isn't that simple though and to be frank, Bella, the youngest of all of us, is the only one who truly understands.

I can't just wash away my past. It's part of who I am. I am that man. The one who committed all those atrocities. And unlike Carlisle neither she nor I believe I can atone for my sins. I can only choose not to repeat them.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as Grandma Swan would have said. I ended the lives of several dozen vampires in Quebec. And I am not sorry for it. And I will do it again if I have to. I'm perhaps just developing a better conception of 'have to'. Or a narrower one. Because I will not hesitate to embrace that side of me if Bella is ever threatened in the future.

I love that she understands that. There isn't a word for the amount of love I feel for her as a result of the fact she _accepts_ it.

Perhaps that's one of the mechanisms of Fate and mating. No one can protect her better than I can. No one. And no one cares that she be safe and happy more than I do. The vampire equivalent of being a highly motivated self-starter.

Just because she accepts me for what I am doesn't mean she automatically accepts my behaviour. She does not make excuses for me, she does not forgive for my transgressions just because I've had a hard life and I'm trying, improving. She forces me to think about what I've done and whether or not it was appropriate. Since I'm not interested in anything other than Bella, releasing my inner asshole now largely revolves around my possessive instincts, well ingrained selfish traits and apparently faulty comprehension of the definition of safe and happy.

Feeling other people's emotions does not entitle me to outright kill them or frighten them to death. No one can help their feelings. Happiness and safety are not threatened by lusty feelings that aren't acted upon. This applies to human men and vampires alike. Touching Bella accidentally or inappropriately in not a capital offence. Bella will tell Jasper when his intervention is required.

Bella is unhappy when she has to go shopping. This does not mean the instigator should be made to feel like they have to make a will and say their last goodbyes. Bella is unhappy when I am. This does not mean I have to weaken myself by manufacturing and projecting happy thoughts.

Since Bella didn't know me before the selfishness thing is different with her. I am not going to spend thirty six hours straight reading with Bella in the world. Nor am I going to tinker with cars, catalogue my library or make stupid vampire mistakes like draining someone if it might limit my time with her. So this is not the kind of selfishness she objects to. Em's desire to hunt with me, wrestle with me, or play with humans in a non-food way is a perfectly normal thing for a brother to feel. Repeatedly brushing him off to spend time with Bella is selfish.

She feels bad about the fact that neither of us can go anywhere or do anything without the other.

Literally.

Though we're both quite happy with things being that way she recognises that this isn't entirely fair on everyone else. Em wants to spend time with his brother. Esme wants to spend time with the woman she considers her newest daughter. Bella wants to be able to give some of her time, sans supernatural stalker, to Kate. I miss letting Pete lead me relatively innocently astray.

Hence my presence in this crappy tree.

The scientific duo, Carlisle and Eleazar, are fascinated by our apparent inability to be apart. Nurture or nature? Is it because we were violently separated and have spent no time apart since? Is it because true mates _can't_ be separated?

I _like_ being with her all the time. I'm not sure I want to know the answer to those questions because I have no real idea what else I'd be doing . . . .

"How long?" I demand.

"Nice." Kate murmurs. "A whole ten minutes. There may be hope for the pair of you yet."

No, probably not.

I can feel her coming closer, like a forest fire encircling the tree, warm and unavoidable.

And I can feel her gift enveloping me.

Supressing a smile I propel myself out of said tree, dropping unheeded at Kate's feet.

My unobservable entity has come for me. I knew she would.

Silently I extend my hand, grinning like a triumphant fool as I feel hers slip into it.

We're going to escape, just for an hour or two.

I may no longer be a completely bad ass vampire but I can still be a slightly naughty one . . . .

**A/N Well here we are again at the end of another story. This one was ludicrously long. Sorry.**

**Thanks to all of you for your reviews. They really do keep me going. Especially this time, my first **_**proper**_** brush with writer's block. It was nasty . . . and you were all **_**awesome**_**.**

**So, good news and bad news. Bad news first, I think I do have another Twilight story, so I'm sorry, I'm still lurking out there like the proverbial bad penny, apt to turn up at any time. Good news is I need a break first, so I'm going to do something completely different. Okay, so not completely different. He's big, he's blonde, he's sexy, he's somewhat dead . . . **

**I hope you'll come and give it a go, because I really do appreciate all your encouragement and support.**

**Morty**

**X**

**And thanks. Again.**


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